RAW is HBO!
by RRatedauthor
Summary: Vince McMahon has sold Monday Night Raw and the new owners are making changes. Forget PG, this is the way RAW was meant to be... rated M for mature subject matter!
1. Number One Contenders Match

"I, Vince McMahon, have sold my interest in Monday Night Raw." The Chairman of the WWE appeared on the Titantron. "And, unlike the Trump experiment, this is legitimate. I feel that the time has come to take World Wrestling Entertainment in a new direction. That, and they made me an offer I couldn't refuse. With that, I give you one of the new owners of Raw... Erik Draven."

Vince's face disappeared from the screen and a younger man stepped onto the stage. The fans didn't know what to make of this at first. The rumors of the sale of Raw had been circulating for several weeks now but most of the Universe had assumed it it was storyline. But Draven's first words soon changed all that.

"Good evening and welcome to what will be a new Raw. New in the sense that nothing will be like it used to. First thing I'd like to do is introduce my partner and your new head referee, the lovely Alexx!"

Alexx came out to many whistles from the crowd as she was a very stunning woman.

"Next thing I'd like to do is announce that we've terminated our deal with the USA network and have signed a multi-year deal with HBO. So you'll be seeing a lot of things that you'd never expect... we will warn you, some of it may make the Attitude era seem tame. I'll now hand things over to my partner who has a few things to say."

"Thank-you, Erik. As my partner said, we have already made several changes to our staff. We have met with the entire roster and anyone that wasn't up for what we proposed, we have accommodated by sending to Smackdown for talent that is interested in pushing the envelope." Alexx smiled "I hope you'll all join us for the ride, but I will repeat that viewer discretion is advised. And now, in ten seconds we will switching over to the HBO feed and once that is done, Erik will announce the first match."

People who were watching on USA were suddenly treated to a rerun of "The Partridge Family". Surprisingly, almost everyone who could switched to HBO as soon as they realized that this was legit.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this contest is a number one contender's match for the WWE championship and it is to be a full frontal tuxedo match. The rules are simple... no pinfalls, no submission, no countout, no DQ. The winner will be the first man to strip his opponent completely naked." Erik paused "I told you we were goin' places. Introducing first..."

The fans in attendance held their collective breaths. Once "My time is Now" started, they cheered.

"From West Newberry, Massachusetts, weighing two hundred forty pounds, John Cena!"

Cena in a tux looked out of place, but no more so than anything else that was going to happen on the new RAW. Other than his ring attire, everything was pure Cena, down to the salute, the mannerisms, and the fact that he might end up showing everything.

"And his opponent, from St. Louis Missouri, weighing two hundred forty-one pounds, Randy Orton!"

Prior to purchasing the show, Erik and Alexx had done some serious market research and discovered that the fans would buy Orton-Cena again, but only if it was something that hadn't been done before. Hence the tuxedo match.

(Author's note... this match is inspired by what happened at my cousin Steve's wedding after two of the groomsmen got completely plastered.)

"Ring the bell." Alexx demanded

Cena and Orton circled each other, looking like two Maitre D's getting ready to fight over the last canape. Cena lunged, and tore the pocket off the tuxedo jacket of Orton, but getting nothing more than that. He held the small piece of fabric high like a trophy before balling it up and tossing it into the crowd.

Was Orton actually enjoying this? Or was his twisted mind so anxious to get a title shot that he was willing to do anything to get it? Maybe a bit of both as he speared Cena to the mat and got on top of him, peppering the top of his head with several punches, then reaching down and ripping his shirt open.

John looked down at his exposed chest and smiled. It was around this time that the crowd realized that this as actually happening, and not going to be a lot of posing. He rolled to his feet and, in an attempt to put a little wrestling in the match, whipped Orton into the ropes and clotheslined him when he bounced back.

Cena was never much for strategy, but this time was different. With Randy flat on his back, instead of going for the pants or something like that, Cena pulled off both of Orton's shoes, making it harder to keep his footing on the mat. It seemed to work as Randy started slipping all over the place, making it easy for Orton to pick his spots, tearing a sleeve from the jacket and ripping one of the trouser legs open while Orton tried to stop himself from falling down.

Frustrated, Orton rolled out of the ring trying to come up with a strategy of his own that would work. The first thing he had to do was take care of his mobility issues and he accomplished that by removing his socks. If the Superfly could wrestle barefoot, then so could the Viper.

In the ring, Cena was cockily chatting up the referee, for what reason no one knew. It wasn't like she could influence the outcome. Her only job was to call for the bell once there was man-meat exposed. Unless there was something going on in Cena's married life, then this seemed to be a mistake. And it turned out to be when Orton slid back into the ring, crept up behind Cena and, with a mighty yank, pulled the good Doctor's pants down. Maybe John forgot it was a tuxedo match since he was wearing his "Hustle, Loyalty, Respect" boxer shorts underneath. Or maybe he didn't have anything else to wear?

With Cena in a very vulnerable position, Orton finished removing the garment, taking one of John's shoes with it in the process. He waved the pants over his head before throwing them into the crowd, where they were soon shredded by several souvenir-hungry fans.

Orton was in the lead, clothing wise, and the smart thing to do might have been to attempt the RKO. But Cena was also thinking along those lines and reversed it into the FU. (Again, it's HBO, so none of this PG-attitude adjustment-bullshit!) He peeled off, sending Orton crashing to the mat, semi-stunned.

Cena rolled Orton onto his back and ripped the jacket off of him, followed soon after by pulling the tux shirt over his head and kneeing him while he was blinded, then ripping the shirt right off him. Orton was now at the disadvantage and, in hindsight, it might've been nice to have Cody and Ted at ringside, but they had other commitments for the evening.

The crowd was pumped, sensing that they were gonna see something never before seen. Cena bent down and grabbed the pocket on the left side of Orton's pants and yanked, ripping the trousers open and exposing Randy's undergarment of choice... a black thong. (At least it's more than what he usually wears under his tights!)

A bow tie, cummerbund, half a pair of pants, and a thong was all that separated Cena from a title shot. Orton had a bit more work to do with Cena being up a coat and shirt, socks and one shoe on Orton, but lacking pants.

Licking his lips, he pulled Orton to his feet and elbowed him in the jaw, and with Orton dizzy, put him over his shoulders for another FU. Orton saw this one coming and wriggled out of the hold. As he landed on the canvas, he spun John around and bang!... RKO!

"Take a look at your champion now!" He taunted, pulling off the jacket, then snapping the cummerbund from around Cena's waist and wrapping it around the former champion's throat. "Give it up, Cena... you can't beat me."

"I... don't... have... to..." Cena panted, his face turning a shade similar to the red bow tie he was still wearing. "All I have... to do... is this." His muscles shaking, he climbed to his feet and elbowed Randy in the stomach three times, then executed a reverse neckbreaker to put his opponent down again. A cocky, New-England grin came to his face as he divested Randy of what remained of the tuxedo pants and flung them into the crowd. If you put fifty pounds of gut flab on Orton, he'd look exactly like Big Dick Johnson, without the cummerbund.

"Cena! Cena! Cena!" The crowd started chanting... whether they wanted him to actually win or they'd prefer to see Orton in his birthday suit, it was hard to tell.

With Orton still on the mat, Cena bounced off the ropes and did his "you can't see me" gesture, following it up with a five knuckle shuffle. Orton rolled over, clutching his forehead, which allowed Cena the time to remove the cummerbund from around Orton's waist. It was getting close to a finish, and even the referee started to pay attention now.

Cena was way ahead and maybe his overconfidence was starting to show as he began to prance around the ring, asking each section of the crowd for approval. When he finally tired of showboating, he returned to Orton, kicking him in the ribs five times before again turning to the crowd.

"Tear it off! Tear it off!" The chant began. Cena pulled Orton to his feet, but before he could remove the last two pieces of clothing, Orton broke the hold and surprised Cena with a second RKO.

"You want me to tear it off, I will." A swift yank and the bow tie was gone, the shirt quickly following. Orton laughed evilly, grabbing Cena's legs and quickly removing the other shoe as well as both socks. Advantage Orton by one bow tie.

With Cena in obvious pain, it was Randy's turn to showboat for the crowd. "One more time!" He shouted, pulling Orton to his feet. The crowd thought he was going for another RKO, but he swerved everyone, grabbing the waistband of Cena's boxers and pulling them down to his ankles, then tripping Cena so he could pull them off. He waved them like a flag of victory. The fact that the bell hadn't rung didn't register right away, until he heard the crowd cheering. At first he thought it was for him, but then he felt a hot breath on the back of his neck. He wheeled around and Cena was standing there smiling. Randy's gaze went to Cena's groin and he groaned when he realized that Cena had pulled a fast one on him and had worn a black g-string beneath his boxers.

"Oh, crap..." was all he had time to say before Cena's fist made contact with his jaw. Left and right hands peppered the Legend Killer, followed by a whip into the corner turnbuckles, and a crushing clothesline right after. Orton sagged against the corner and Cena chopped him across the chest once, twice, three times, and then realized that he better take advantage of the situation. After a fourth chop left Orton gasping for air, Cena pulled the bow tie from around his neck with a mighty yank, leaving a red welt.

It was literally sudden death... both men down to the skimpiest of briefs. It soon degenerated into a slap and grab fight as both men fought for purchase on the one garment that stood between them and a shot at Chris Jericho's title.

Orton desperately lunged for Cena, but John caught him, and shouldered him. Before anyone could say RKO, it was another FU. Cena rolled Orton onto his back and straddled the dazed wrestler.

_Keeping him down is going to be a problem... wait!_ Cena shimmed down until his body weight was pinning Randy's thighs to the mat. He reached down and with one hand, pushed the piece of dental floss than ran between Randy's butt cheeks aside and with the other, roughly inserted two fingers into the hot passage inside.

Randy groaned, but it was not in pain, but more in pleasure as John found his sweet spot and massaged it several times.

Randy arched his hips off the mat and John took advantage of it, tugging the briefs down to his knees. He looked down and not only was Randy not putting up a whole lot of defense, he seemed to be loving the attention. At least his penis was as it was hard and already wet with precum. John continued to finger fuck Randy while he slowly inched the g-string lower and lower, past his knees to his ankles.

He rolled to the side, turning Randy over while not removing his fingers from inside him. Orton was groaning, breathing heavily, as Cena continued to manipulate his prostate.

"Oh fuck..." Randy moaned "Give it to me, harder."

John obliged, pushing deeper inside Randy, watching his cock swell more and more with each thrust until it looked like it was going to burst.

"Come for me, lover." John breathed seductively into Randy's ear. "I want you to be mine."

"Ahhhh." Randy's voice rose when John brushed once more against him. "I'm there... I can't stop it... I... oh fuck, I'm coming..." His cock twitched once more and several thick strands of goo erupted from it. John continued to finger Randy until every drop was spent. He looked up at Randy, his body flushed and covered with a mixture of sweat, baby oil, and cum, and, while Randy was trying to recover, reached down and snatched the covering from his ankles.

The referee, who also looked a little flushed, immediately signaled for the bell.

"The winner and number one contender... John Cena!" Erik announced

"What!" Randy shouted, realizing what had happened.

Cena waved his fingers in front of his face while Orton stomped around the ring, still covered in juice. "You tricked me!"

"Anything to win, man, anything to win." Cena yelled back, then returned to his locker room for a post-match celebration. He'd really wanted to stick something else between Orton's cheeks, but if he was going to win the match, that was going to have to wait for another day.

THE END

_Suggestions for pairing, matches, or anything else are welcome... nothing is taboo (except maybe farm animals, deciduous trees, and Mark Henry!)_

_Up next... Miz/Orton no holds barred for Magz!  
_


	2. United States Title Match

Randy Orton stood in the middle of the Raw ring, not looking at all happy.

"You think that was funny, seeing what John Cena did to me last week?" he fumed "Well I am not going anywhere until he comes back out here and gives that title shot to me... where it belongs! I deserve that shot... I am a Legend... no, I am a Legend Killer..."

"I Came To Play" interrupted Orton's diatribe. The Miz stood on the stage, his U.S. Title belt snugly around his waist and his unified tag-title belts slung over both shoulders.

"Wah, wah, wah. Same old Orton. That match last week... it looked like you wanted to lose. I mean, c'mon, you let John Cena get you off in the middle of the ring and I'm sure all the Miz-fits will agree, it didn't look like you did much to stop him."

Orton's face turned red.

"And, as the United States Champion, I should be the number one Contender to the World Title, no matter who holds it." The Miz continued his rant.

"Oh yeah?" Orton barked "Why don't you bring your ass down to this ring and put your money where your mouth is!"

"It's not my money that's going where YOUR mouth is." Miz replied, winking at Orton. "But I'll be glad to show the world why I am the Miz... and I AM AWESOME!"

"Well, that was interesting." Erik appeared on the big screen above Miz's head. "If you two are going to waste air time when these fans came to see hardcore action, then we might as well give them something to get all sweaty about. I am making a match... Randy Orton versus The Miz for the United States Championship and the Big Show has been barred from ringside. Oh, and another thing, it will be 'No Holds Barred'. That match will occur as soon as the sexiest referee in the business gets down to the ring."

The lovely Alexx pranced out to the ring, waving and blowing kisses to the crowd. "Ring the bell." She yelled

The Miz stood on the stage. It looked like he wasn't going to do much.

"One more bit of business. I am so sick of seeing "Dusty finishes" to main events." Erik stated "Effectively immediately... the titles WILL change hands on count-outs or disqualifications. That is all."

Miz's jaw dropped at this announcement and he sprinted to the ring the moment he realized the referee was up to six. He barely rolled under the bottom rope before the count reached ten.

Miz looked so cute. He was wearing his hat/scarf/Capri pants ensemble. Orton smirked. _I'm gonna mess you up boy!_

Before Miz could get his bearings, Orton knocked him to the mat, his hat flying off. Miz scrambled to his feet, angrily staring at Randy and carefully removing and folding his scarf.

He looked around for his hat, but couldn't find it.

"Looking for this?" Orton cooed, picking up the hat and brushing some imaginary dust from it.

"Gimme that, asshole!" Mike shouted

"Okay." Randy held the hat out toward the Miz, but as he reached for it Randy flicked his wrist, sending it out into the crowd. It landed about seven rows back.

"Asshole!" Miz repeated, spearing Orton to the ground. "That hat cost me more than you're worth!"

Randy smiled. Seeing Mike get all worked up was kind of a turn on and he was going to use that to his advantage. "Sorry, baby." He whispered, chuckling.

"Baby... what the fuck?" Miz shouted

"Come on, you know you want it." Orton twisted to the side, getting his left arm free and brazenly groped Miz's crotch. Mike jumped off Orton in a flash, allowing Randy to get to his feet.

"Tell him to stop grabbing my dick!" Mike complained to the referee.

"Sorry, Mikey... it's no holds barred. If he wants to grope you, it's perfectly legal. It looks like you enjoyed it." Alexx giggled, pointing to the prominent bulge in his Capris.

"Bitch." Miz grumbled, adjusting himself, to the amusement and catcalls of the crowd. "Okay, Orton, no more fucking around..."

He turned back to his opponent, only to step right into six hard body shots, and I don't mean Tequila in the belly button either. Each one took the wind right out of Mike and after the last hit, he was on the canvas gasping for breath. Orton quickly covered Miz, but he kicked out before the ref could even begin her count. No surprise there, but Orton did not want to end the match before he had a chance to have some real fun. He just wanted to make the Miz squirm a little longer. When he rolled off after the failed pin, he made sure his arm scraped between Mike's legs. Orton suppressed a smile when he felt a hardness beneath the material.

_I got Mike now. For all his machoness, his buttons are easier to push than Cena's._

Mike was having drastically other ideas. He was hard and, unless he was sweating already, there was moisture inside his underwear that he did not want to think about.

_Now where did he go... oh..._

While Mike was distracted, Orton had rolled out of the ring and grabbed a metal folding chair for his weapon of choice. The 'oh' was when Randy rammed it into Mike's gut, dropping him to his knees. Randy lined up and whacked Mike across the back with the foreign object.

The crowd oohed with each shot. Mike groaned in pain with the first, and in pleasure with the second. When he landed on the mat, it rubbed against his still-hard cock sending a good feeling through his entire body. He was positive that the stickiness he felt was not sweat. It was moments like this that made Mike glad he'd listened when the Undertaker had talked about the advantages of wearing black.

"Are you planning to fight back or do you want me to leave so you can dry hump the mat?" While Mike was in another place, Orton had put him in a headlock on the mat.

He pulled back on the hold, making Miz scream and driving whatever he'd been thinking about into a far corner of his mind.

The referee interpreted the scream as a possible submission and she bent down to ask Mike if he wanted to give up.

"No way... fuck!" Her cleavage was right in his face when she asked. _Must turn off sex drive... old nuns, income tax, John Morrison... fuck!_

The thought of his former tag-team partner suddenly invaded his consciousness. _Those abs... that ass... his thick cock... dammit!!!_ Mike felt more wetness in his trunks when Orton pulled back on the hold and dragged his dick once more against the rough surface of the ring. Mike lost it, shooting in his pants like a teenager.

_At least now I can focus on the match... hopefully Orton didn't see that..._

Randy didn't, but he could feel the tremors course through Miz's body as he was still on top of the other man. He smiled, knowing what had happened._ Now he's mine..._

Orton finally broke the hold when it was obvious that Mike was not going to submit. He grabbed onto his faux-hawk and pulled him upright. He briefly glanced down in a "I know what you did" look before knocking Mike back down with a standing dropkick. With Mike back on the mat, Orton rolled out of the ring again, looking for another weapon. He found it under the ring.

_Hopefully Hunter doesn't mind..._ He removed Mr. Sledgey from it's hiding place and returned to the ring. Miz was still on his hands and knees, and Orton knocked him onto his stomach with one shot from the sledge, then straddled him and used the wooden handle to attempt a choke out. Mike's face went from slightly flushed, to really flushed, to deep red, to almost blue before Orton was satisfied. He rolled Mike onto his back and covered him.

"One... two..." Somehow Miz found the reserves to kick out before the three.

Orton covered him again, and again the ref only counted to two. He tried a third time, and a third time he failed.

"Dammit!" In his anger, he brought the hammer down once more, and snapped the handle across Mike's broad back.

He went looking for another weapon, and grabbed the bell from ringside after debating about what he should use on Mike next. That proved to be a mistake. He gave Miz just enough time to recover and when Orton moved to hit Mike with the bell in the head, Miz surprised him with a knee to the groin, followed by a kick to the head, and a shot from the chair Orton had earlier used on him. Since he'd already blown his load, Mike wasn't worried about anything like that happening any time soon.

Orton staggered back toward the ropes, but Mike followed him in, hitting him with the chair three times, then intertwining Orton in the top and middle ropes. He used Randy's predicament as an excuse to taunt the crowd with his oft-repeated catchphrase.

Meanwhile, referee Alexx was attempting to free Randy from the ropes, but having little success. She quickly gave up when it became obvious that Orton was elsewhere.

"If you're gonna spend the rest of this match staring at Miz's ass, then I'm going to lunch." It sounded like she meant it. "Let me know when you're ready to get your mind on the match."

She stepped out of the ring, and sat down next to the timekeeper.

_Good. Now that there's no danger of a three count interrupting me..._ Orton leveraged him out of the ropes and, while the Miz was taunting the crowd, crept up on the unsuspecting Ohioan.

"I'm the Miz and I'm..."

"Dead fuckin' meat." Orton growled

Mike turned, just in time to renew an acquaintance with three letters of the alphabet... RKO.

Randy did a few knuckle push-ups beside The Miz's semi-conscious form, before straddling him. Alexx set down her popcorn and made like to reenter the ring.

"Not yet babe." Orton shouted "I'm not quite ready yet."

Alexx nodded. She had a hunch of what was about to happen and moved her chair and her popcorn closer for a better look.

Orton planted his butt right on top of Miz's groin and wriggled around a little. Mike moaned softly and, despite his dazed-ness, it didn't take long for Randy to feel a reaction from his opponent.

_I've known light switches that took longer to turn on than this guy._ Randy cockily sneered at his fallen adversary and ground down harder on him, increasing the frequency and pitch of the sounds coming from within. Moving both sideways and vertically against him soon made Mike rock-hard and wordlessly begging for more.

Randy briefly moved to the side and his long fingers began their assault on the Capris. Belt, button, zipper, they all fell against the ruthlessness displayed by Orton. He slid them down Mike's legs and shucked them off over his boots. This left only one thin piece of material and two tugs soon had it ripped and moved to the side.

"I know you're a bottom, but..." Randy laughed, sliding his own trunks to one side. Holding the Miz's cock in an upright position, Orton dropped on top of it. He held back his own cry of pleasure, but the Miz made up for that with his own groans.

"You like that baby... does it feel... awesome?" Randy whispered huskily into his ear.

The Miz's eyes were glassy... exactly what Orton had hoped for.

"Tell me Mikey... do want me to make you cum? You'd like that, wouldn't ya? Make that big cock (big might be an exaggeration from what I've been told) shoot in my ass?" Randy started riding Mike faster with each sentence. He reached back, grabbing both of Mike's legs and pulling them, raising his lower body off the canvas a few inches.

"Randy, please... " Mike whined, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

"Please what, baby?" Randy adjusted his own position, putting more of his body weight on the Miz's torso while keeping that part of him inside.

"Let me..."

"Not yet, baby. I want you to enjoy this." Mike eyes were closed so he could not see Randy motion for the referee. "Get in here." He mouthed

"Randy, you're gonna make me shoot... I can't stop it." Mike scrunched his face tight. He wanted to prolong the exquisite sensations that were building at the base of his cock, but from years of solo pleasuring, he knew it was hopeless.

"Then cum baby... fill me with your awesomeness." Randy leaned forward, catching Mike's lips in a kiss, but also putting all of his weight on Mike. "Do it!"

"Fuck!" Mike screamed, his dick convulsing.

"Now!" Orton shouted

"One... two... three!" As Miz orgasm began, his title reign ended.

"The winner of this bout and new United States Champion... Randy Orton!"

"What?" Mike's eyes widened. "You son of a..." He pushed Orton aside and quickly got to his feet, not caring that he was almost totally nude, still semi-hard, and had several spots of thick fluid on his lower abdomen. He charged Orton.

Randy saw him coming and knocked him out with the US Title belt. He adjusted his own tights, not concerned with the wetness he felt dripping from his asshole.

"You may be awesome, but I am Legendary." His newly-won title held high, Randy went backstage.

When he recovered, the Miz realized that once again his body had cost him dearly. There was nothing to do but get cleaned up, and hopefully find a place where he could drink the name "Randy Orton" from his mind.

...

Next Match... Jeff Hardy vs. Edge with a stipulation that'll blow your mind!


	3. Armageddon Rematch

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen and welcome to RAW is... HBO! Tonight we present a grudge match for the ages!"

After several clandestine meetings, Erik and Alexx had decided to officially get rid of commentators. This was done for two reasons. The first was obvious... it distracted from the action in the ring and the second was that all announcers usually did is follow story lines and for now, there were no story lines to follow. They countered what might be an awkward pause by Erik and Alexx taking turns recording a brief intro to that week's show. After the US title change the previous week, fans were tuning in by the millions wondering what they would see next.

This week was to be no surprise.

The show opened with Edge's theme and an appearance by the winner of the 2010 Royal Rumble. He waited for the crowd noise to cease.

"So, Cena, you think that because you made Orton blow his wad that gives you the right to challenge Jericho for the World Title. All that makes you is a two-bit prostitute and proves to everyone that you'll do anything to get ahead in this business. Once I take the title from Jericho at Wrestlemania, then I will take care of you and prove to all my Edgeheads why I deserve to be the champion, not you!"

The crowd roared. "But I still have another bit of unfinished business to deal with. I remember what happened at Armageddon, Jeff Hardy, so get out here and let me finish kicking your ass!"

Edge waited, but there was no Jeff anywhere in sight.

"What are you... scared?" Patience was not something Edge was known for. "If you don't come out here, then I am going to come back there and..."

"No more words" cut Adam off. The crowd roared, anticipating Jeff's appearance, but it wasn't Jeff who appeared. It was Matt.

"I think you're getting a little ahead of yourself, aren't you Edge? You're already talking about what you're going to go to Jericho and Cena, when you may not make it past my brother tonight..."

"This has nothing to do with you, Matt Hardy!" Edge spat the name. "I would suggest that you get off the stage, and find some nameless ring rat to have what you call sex with, before I do to you what I'm going to do to your brother!"

Another theme interrupted Adam. It was "Go Insane" and the third, and recently retired Hardy brother Tom, joined Matt on the stage.

"What is this... the entire family is here... who's next, cousin Elmer Hardy?" Edge ranted

"Nah, cousin Elmer is busy this week. I'm just here to deliver a message. My brother accepts your challenge, but it is going to be under his terms..."

"And what might those be? Last man cumming? We all know how sick that family of yours is!" Adam stomped around the ring.

Tom looked at Matt, who looked right back at Tom.

"Actually, Jeff was more interested in a TLC match... that's tickling, leather, and cock rings for the uneducated like you... but I'm sure that'll work too."

"No chance in hell!" Adam shouted

"Awww... whatsamatter Addy? You afraid that little Jeffro is gonna kick your ass again?" Matt cooed

"Anyway, it's a moot point. Erik's already agreed to it."

"So? I'm not doing it!" Adam huffed

"You're not?" Erik appeared on-screen, his beautiful referee standing just behind. "Hear that Alexx, we got a revolt goin' on?"

Alexx giggled. "Well, you have two options. You can either fight Jeff or I'll let the other two Hardys have their way with you. I'm sure you'd like that."

"That's not fair!" Edge stomped around the ring.

Erik laughed. "Unfair? You of all people shouldn't be complaining about things being unfair, Mister-Ultimate-Opportunist. What's it gonna be?"

Edge was thinking. He knew he could beat Jeff in a regular match, but the stipulation that had been added was not something he wanted to do.

"If I fight Tom and Matt, what kind of match will it be?"

Alexx whispered something into Erik's ear. The co-owner of RAW burst into more laughter.

"What do you mean 'match'?" Erik wiped his eyes from laughing so hard. "If you don't agree to the stipulation in front of you, then Tom and Matt have permission to do whatever the fuck they want to you."

Adam's eyes grew wide at those words. Tom and Matt stared at each other, high-fived, and started to run down to the ring.

"Alright, I'll do it!" Adam shouted. _Maybe I can end this quickly and my reputation won't be fucked..._

"Then we have a match. Sorry you two. I may have something for you two later, so stick around!"

Matt and Tom looked visibly disappointed that they weren't gonna get in on the action with Edge, but they could get some satisfaction that at least one Hardy was gonna get some. "No More Words" started up again, and the youngest of the Hardy brothers finally appeared, high-stepping his way down to the ring. Once both fighters were in the ring, and the referee had gone over the rules... well, actually rule, the bell rang to start the match.

Not expecting a match right away, Edge was still in his street clothes. Jeff had changed into his classic look. Adam intensely tried to figure a way out of this little predicament he found himself in before things went further than first base. Jeff didn't seem to concerned with what might happen.

"C'mon, Jeffro." Matt shouted from ringside. "This match is right up your alley."

"It's up something." Tom sniggered "Or something's gonna be up, one of the two."

"Shush, you!" Matt playfully slapped Tom on the shoulder, causing him to stagger back.

"Watch it!" Tom hissed "I'm not as young as I used to be."

"Bullshit." Matt laughed

"Would you two both shut up." Jeff whacked them both on the tops of the heads. "I gotta figure out how to make Addy cum without it seeming totally gay."

"Tie him to a chair and stick him in front of the all-night porno channel." Tom suggested "That works for your brother here."

Matt blushed. "You said you'd never tell!"

"Oh, right." Tom chuckled "Forget I said that."

Jeff stifled a laugh, which ended in a scream when Adam attacked him from the rear, and back suplexed him onto the canvas.

"Did I read it right, that there are basically no rules to this?" Tom's gears were turning.

"First guy to get off loses." Matt replied

"I thought so." Tom answered

"Whatcha thinking, bro?"

"Just gonna get him in the mood." When Adam's attention turned, Tom grabbed Matt and kissed him passionately, driving his tongue deep inside his younger brother's mouth.

"What the..." Matt fought off the kiss for all of two seconds, until he realized that his brother was a damn good kisser. He returned the kiss with equal passion, stopping only when they both needed to breathe.

"Did it work?" Tom asked, wiping the saliva from his lips.

"I've seen more erotic things on Little House on the Prairie." Adam laughed

"I guess he had a thing for Michael Landon, then." Tom pointed to a prominent bulge that had appeared in Adam's jeans. "Go get 'em, Jeffro."

Adam turned around, right into a scoop slam from Hardy, and as he let his opponent drop to the mat, swiped across the swelling in his pants for good measure. Adam unintentionally groaned from the contact.

"We did our part." Matt whispered "Can we go now?"

"Go, why?" Tom asked, then felt something hard press up against his lower back. "Oh."

"Please..." Matt breathed heavily into Tom's ear.

"Jeffro, can you handle this on your own?" Tom shouted

Jeff paused from where he was frantically attempting to undo Adam's belt. "I could really use... uh yeah." He quickly changed his tune when he saw the look Matt was giving both he and Tom.

"Cool. Good luck." Matt and Tom ran from ringside as Jeff finally managed to get Adam's belt off. With the pants now hanging loose, Jeff got a glance at what Adam was wearing underneath. The problem was how to get at it because his opponent didn't seem like he was going to take this lying down, pardon the pun.

Adam staggered to his feet, clearly not on his game. Watching Tom and Matt kiss had awakened his hormones; hormones that had lain dormant for a little too long and were now making his whole body quiver with anticipation. The anticipation quickly died when he was rudely brought back to the present when Jeff started beating him with the belt. He screamed each time the leather made contact with his back and that only egged Jeff on.

"Take that and that and that and that." Each 'that' was punctuated with another slap from the belt. Adam felt some wetness trickle down between his shoulder blades and suspected he'd been cut.

Jeff also saw the blood seep through Adam's shirt and something about it changed Jeff's attack instantly. He climbed on top of Adam, tugging his shirt over his shoulder to look at what he'd done.

"Awwwww... poor Addy got an owie?" he cooed

"How many times have I told you to stop calling me Addy?" Edge complained

"Okay, Addy." Jeff giggled, gently kissing the bloody welts that crossed Adam's shoulder. "Whatever you say, Addy."

"Jeff, I told you..." Adam stopped in mid-sentence when he felt a little cooler. Jeff, through all his talking, had worked Adam's jeans down to his thighs. "Oh fuck..." Adam attempted to wriggle free, but only succeeded in ending up with his pants at his ankles and Jeff still on top of him.

"Let me go!" Adam reached the ropes, expecting a break. When none was coming, he pulled himself through and onto the arena floor. He was free of Jeff's weight on top of him, but he'd also lost his pants in the process.

_Thank God I wore clean undies._

Adam's first instinct was to run, then to cover himself up. Wearing tighty-whities with a hard-on was not the best way to get over with the female fans. It pretty much left nothing to the imagination. He settled for doing both, especially when Jeff started chasing him around the ring.

"Come here Addy... I got somethin' for ya." He laughed

"Unless you plan to give me my pants back, then I'm not interested."

Jeff stopped, pouting. "Okay."

"Okay?" Adam couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Just ask that lady in the front row if you can have them back." Jeff smiled goofily.

Adam looked over and groaned audibly. A very large woman in the front row was holding them tightly.

"Ma'am, could I please have my... what the fuck... Jeff!"

His conversation with the fan had distracted him enough so Jeff could sneak up on him. While Adam was still distracted, Jeff reached for his underwear and tore the front of them, allowing his penis to flop free and immediately stiffen in the warm air of the arena.

The fans shrieked, Adam turned crimson and frantically tried to tuck himself away, and Jeff grinned sheepishly. Stage one was done, now for stage two. He reached for Adam, planning to give him a few quick strokes to kill his resistance, but was instead met with a punch to the stomach. Jeff dropped to his knees, gasping for air.

"Now to put that pretty little mouth of yours to good use." Jeff's breathing was already short and it became even harder when Adam stuffed his cock into his mouth. "That's it baby, all according to my plan."

Jeff's eyes widened when he heard that. Adam had played him and there was nothing he could do about it.

"Now suck, you little whore."Adam growled into Jeff's ear. "And don't even think about stopping."

Jeff hesitated and all that got him was a slap on the back of the head. "I said suck." Adam yelled

Nodding weakly in shame, Jeff started to swallow the enormous girth that Adam had been blessed with.

"Yeah, that's it." Adam's voice grew husky while he continued to fuck Jeff's mouth, causing him to gag whenever he thrusted particularly hard. The strangled sounds seemed to be turning Adam on more each time.

"You wanted to win this match, didn't you my little slut?" Adam continued to berate his foe. "You just didn't expect it to happen like this. You figured it'd be you in control of poor ole Addy... they don't call me the Ultimate Opportunist for nothing... don't stop now, you're doing soooo well!"

Jeff's eyes started to water. How could he have fallen for this so easily? Where were Matty and Tommy? Were they in on it or had Adam fooled them as well?

"So close..." Adam panted. Jeff could feel his cock swell as he neared his orgasm and closed his eyes to block it out.

"Didn't they tell you that close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades?" A familiar voice caused Jeff to twitch, slamming the head of Adam's cock against his tonsils and almost causing him to puke on the spot.

Jeff opened his eyes when the hard column of flesh that had been causing him to choke was suddenly removed from his mouth. To his surprise, and joy, Adam was now being held in the clutches of Tom and Matt.

"Big brothers to the rescue." Matt and Tom carried Adam back into the ring and laid him on the mat, holding his hands and feet to prevent his escape.

"Jeffro, there's a cock ring in my pocket. Put in on Addy. We don't want him ruining his surprise, now do we?" Matt said

Swallowing nervously, his own arousal becoming evident, Jeff did as he was told. Adam whimpered a bit when the restraint was placed around his member.

"Addy, you almost had me and my brothers fooled." Tom pinned Adam's hands above his head with his knees while he spoke. "But now, the joke's on you. You didn't care about the match, you just wanted to do to little Jeffy what you've always wanted. Well, you're gonna get half your wish... you're gonna lose the match. The rules state that you just have to cum to lose... they don't say who has to make you cum."

While Adam wondered exactly what that meant, and how he was going to get out of this mess, a retro beat hit the speakers. Adam recognized it immediately and went white.

"Guys c'mon, this isn't funny."

"Do we look like we're joking?" Matt answered, tightening his grip on his ankles.

"Lemme go... I swear, I'll leave Jeff alone." Adam begged

"Shoulda thought of that beforehand." Tom chuckled, knowing what awaited Adam.

The baseline continued to pump and the entire crowd exploded when the punchline to the joke that was being played on Adam appeared. Big Dick Johnson, in all his oiliness, strutted down to the ring.

Adam struggled to free himself, but the more he strained, the tighter he was held by the Hardys. Johnson gyrated into the ring, wearing nothing more than a bow tie and a yellow thong.

"This isn't fair!" Adam screamed

"Of course it isn't... this is RAW!" Jeff laughed

Big Dick shook his groove thing for a few moments, then dropped on top of Adam, rubbing his slick body all over, focusing on creating friction below the waist.

"Shit... fuck..." Adam groaned, his engorged member becoming more sensitive by the moment. "No... get off... I'm..." His whole body started to tremble as he fought against what was happening. Dick continued to rub against him until Adam felt himself starting to orgasm. The only problem was the leather circle around his cock and balls prevented him from cumming.

"Please..." he whimpered

"Please...?" Jeff repeated "Why Addy, I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me." He nodded to Johnson who slithered off Edge and out of the ring, wiggling his way back up the ramp and backstage.

"Please..." Adam's cock looked like it was going to launch into space. "I need to..."

"I think you've tortured him enough." Matt looked at his little brother. "Time to take the winner's share of things."

Jeff nodded and snapped the cock ring off. Adam shot seconds later.

"The winner of this match... Jeff Hardy!"

The three Hardy's celebrated in the ring while Adam dragged his jizz-covered body up the ramp.

"Hey, Edge." Matt shouted "The next time you mess with our family, you won't get off that easily."

Tom and Jeff laughed at Matt's double-entendre before leaving the ring for their own backstage celebration, which would turn out to be too short.

TBC

Up next, a little backstage brouhaha between Triple H and Cody Rhodes (For QueenofYourWorld) as well as an announcement that will change the tag team division!


	4. Backdoor Action Backstage

"The winner of the first blood match... Ted DiBiase!"

Triple H wiped his hand across his forehead, smearing the thin line of crimson into his palm. Things had been going according to plan until Cody Rhodes had stuck his nose (and Triple H's own sledgehammer) into the match, resulting in a very superficial cut over his right eye. The referee had called for the bell, sending Paul into a paradigm of apoplexy.

(A/N Someone once dared me to use both "paradigm" and "apoplexy" in the same sentence, so take that twelfth-grade English teacher!!!)

"What the fuck was all that about?!" Paul screamed at the referee.

"First blood match... you bled... end of story..." She shrugged

"Me pissed off... you pissed me off... pedigree... end of story." Paul retorted, grabbing Alexx by the hair. He stuck her head between his legs, not an unpleasant place to be for most people, and was halfway to planting her face into the mat when the other co-owner of RAW suddenly appeared on the newly-renamed Verboten-tron, looking partially pensive, and partially amused.

"Triple H, you probably don't want to do that." Erik tapped his pen on the desk, upon which rested a stack of papers.

"Why not?" Paul flexed his leg muscles, setting up to deliver the move.

"Well, I would just like to inform everyone who was mildly repulsed by last week's show that Big Dick Johnson has been traded to Smackdown for John Morrison and a stud to be fucked later. I haven't decided who that person is to be, but if you do not immediately release my referee, I will make a phone call and have the Great Khali booked against you in a bondage match for next week."

Paul grimaced, but refused to release the hold.

"I can see you're not taking me seriously. " Erik picked up the phone. "Hello, Teddy Long... is Khali still available?"

"Okay, okay." Paul allowed the referee to wriggle free from his grip. "This isn't over... not by a fuckin' long shot."

"And this is a reminder to everyone. If you put your hands on my referee, then there will be payback and it will not be curable with psychiatric help." Erik laughed "That is all."

Paul grabbed his sledgehammer, still spotted with his blood, and ran backstage. If he couldn't vent on the referee, then he was going to find someone else to take his frustration out on. He raced back to the locker room he knew Rhodes and DiBiase still shared, even after the implosion of Legacy and kicked the door open. Of DiBiase, there was no sign but of Rhodes there was. Sledge in hand, he stalked the young superstar.

"Where... the... fuck... do you... get off... interfering... in... my... match?" Breathing heavily with rage, each word sounding like its own sentence, Triple H pointed his weapon at Cody.

"Eep!" Cody squeaked, backing away from the irate ex-champion.

"Sorry, but eep is not gonna save your ass from what I have planned."

Cody continued to ease away from the Game, until he was pressed against the cold locker doors.

"It was all Teddy's idea." He whined "I didn't wanna, but he told me I hadta or he'd break up with me!"

_So the rumors of Legacy imploding due to sex were true._ Paul smirked, dropping the tool on the floor and placing one hand to either side of Cody's head.

"By the time I'm done with you, DiBiase breaking up with you will seem like a good idea." He growled

Cody gulped nervously.

"It's time to play the game... or in this case with the game. On your knees you little slut!"

Triple H started forcing Cody to the ground.

"N-n-no... p-p-please." Cody whispered, horrified. "I'll do anything, just..."

"Actually, you will be doing anything. Anything I tell you." Paul continued to push until Rhodes' head was level with his groin. "Now you better start using that mouth for what it was intended."

"I can't." Tears trickled down his cheeks.

"Either suck my cock or taste my sledgehammer." Paul pointed the metal head at Cody.

Whimpering, Cody drew Triple H's trunks down to his knees. He gasped, a little in awe, when the large purple head popped out. He tentatively licked the back of the shaft, making Triple H moan ever so slightly.

"You'll have to do a lot better than that." Paul growled

Cody took the head into his mouth and started sucking on it, poking his tongue into the hole at the tip.

"The boys in the back were right. You are good at this." Paul thrust forward, making Cody choke a little.

"Not so much..." Cody moaned, his mouth stuffed full of Triple H.

"Oh, please... If Randy's telling the truth, you sucked both him and Ted at the same time and now you can't handle me? Bullshit."

"But they weren't trying to get back at me." Cody responded, a little too arrogantly for the Game's liking, but then it occurred to him what the young Legacy member was up to.

"That's right, I am." Triple H pulled out of Cody's mouth and with a swing of the sledge, knocked him face-first onto the floor. "Since the rumors about your mouth are true, then maybe the one about your ass is as well."

He ripped Cody's trunks off and threw them across the room. He stared at his smooth, hairless ass, and the deep crevice in the middle and had to stop himself from grabbing his own cock for relief.

Paul stuck two fingers roughly inside, stretching Cody in preparation for his dick. After initially clenching his cheeks against the intrusion, he was soon gasping when Paul's fingers brushed against his sweet spot.

"Fuck..." Cody moaned

"If you say so, bitch!" Paul pulled his fingers out and stuffed his dick in with no pause at all. Cody yelled out in pain, but that feeling soon eased away when Triple H's dick poked against his prostate.

"Oh God..." Cody reached down and began stroking his own dick.

"You're liking this, aren't ya?" Triple H started pounding Cody's ass harder, still hitting his sweet spot with every thrust, but decreasing the intervals between pokings. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you wanted this."

"Fuck, yeah..." Cody arched into Paul, stroking in time to his thrusts. "Give it to me..."

"I'll give it to you, but not because you said so." Flipping Cody onto his back, Paul re-entered the young man and quickly resumed his pace.

"No, you'll give it to him because I said so." Triple H's head whipped around. DiBiase was standing in the doorway, looking more than a little interested in what was going on with his Legacy-mate.

"I don't take orders from you." Despite being on the verge of cumming, he pulled out of Cody and stood to face Ted.

"This time you do." Ted smirked "You're gonna fuck Coddles until I say stop, then..."

"Then what?" _Why am I playing along with this and how did I lose control so fast?_

"If you're a good boy, there may be a million-dollar brat who's willing to give it up to you as well. If not, then I'll just take it 'cause I'm like my dad and I always get what I want." Ted dropped the Million Dollar belt on the ground and started pulling off his trunks. "Now get back to work. Cody looks like he's ready for more."

Paul looked over and true enough, Cody did look like he was ready for more. His hand was pumping his shaft, using the precum that was oozing from the slit to make it slipperier. His eyes were closed, his mouth open, and his tongue licking his lips... it made for a very hot scene.

In less time than it takes Orton to RKO Jack Swagger, Paul was back inside Cody's tight heat and fucking him twice as hard.

"Fuck that ass." Ted whispered, his own cock stiffening. Watching Cody and Paul have sex made every hit he'd taken in the match worthwhile. Rhodes had never been interested in a threesome, even when they were in Legacy, but this was exactly what Ted had hoped was going to happen when he asked Rhodes to interfere. "Give it to him... yeah, that's it." He started to stroke his own member in readiness.

"I'm gonna fuckin' come!" Cody gasped. Triple H only grunted as the buried himself completely inside Rhodes.

"Oh yesss..." His voice rose and his lisp became a lot more pronounced as he shot his load all over his hand and stomach. The game felt his ass tighten around his dick, but before he could finish, Ted pulled him away.

"What the fuck?" Paul complained, now flat on his back, his erection throbbing noticeably..

"Remember what I said? I always get what I want." Ted positioned himself perfectly, then slid down, engulfing Triple H inside his own warmth. "But you better make it worth my while."

"I'll try." Paul gasped as Ted starting sliding along his still wet shaft. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Cody, still covered in his release, watching them. The sight of Rhodes, so spent and so blissful-looking sent more blood straight to his groin and he bit his lip to stop his climax.

"Shit, Teddy... you're even tighter than Rhodes." Paul grunted. After being impressed by Cody's asshole, he was in for a surprise when Ted suddenly squeezed his cheeks.

"I know. How else do you think I've gotten where I am today?" Ted laughed; a good impression of his father's legendary cackle. "Mmmm... so close... how about you?"

Triple H started pumping into Ted with speed. "Does that answer your question?" He gasped, reaching up to grasp Ted's cock.

"Oh God... Paul, I'm..." Ted leaned back and moaned as he was caught in the clutches of a powerful orgasm. "FUCK!!!!" He screamed loud enough for people passing by to hear and shot. His cum left his dick with such force that it landed on the floor a couple of feet behind Paul's head.

Seeing Ted's juice shoot over his head was enough to send Paul over the edge and he slammed into Ted, holding his hips in place, hard enough to see stars as he came. He continued pumping into Ted until he felt his own goo trickle down the sides of his softening dick and he quickly pulled out.

"Let that be a lesson to you. Never interfere in my match again, Rhodes!" Paul shouted while pulling his trunks back on. He said that more for the benefit of anyone who'd heard DiBiase's scream, not that anyone with half a brain would be fooled into thinking it was a shout of pain.

Triple H grabbed his sledgehammer and walked into the hall. The only people around were Taker and Kane, but they were too busy talking to Erik, who only raised his eyebrow at Paul before going back to his discussion with the BOD.

"So, you and Glenn want a shot at the Miz and Show, is that what I'm understanding?" Erik raised his other eyebrow when first Ted, then Cody, also left the locker room, both of them walking a little gingerly.

"Fuckin' A." Glenn answered "And you know what happens when Mark 'n me don't get what we want!"

"Yeah, but I can't just put you in a regular match. You know how we roll here. Furthermore, Matt and Jeff are my number one contenders right now."

Mark and Glenn looked at each other. "We want those titles!" Mark growled "And we'll do whatever it takes to get them!"

"Mark, I wouldn't..." Glenn interrupted. He was a little leery of what his 'brother' might be getting them into. Like everyone else, he'd seen more semen spilled in that ring in the past three weeks than anything else.

"In that case, I have a proposition for you." Erik answered "My office. Ten minutes."

TBC

_Up next... The BOD vs the Hardy Boyz for a shot at the tag titles... for Souless666_


	5. Tag Team Turmoil

"Good evening. It has come to my attention that there have been some concerns regarding the in-ring officiating. While I have not seen anything to give any credence to these claims, I will take this matter under review with my head referee. However, in order to not appear bias, I will be appointing a special guest referee for tonight's incest match between the Brothers of Destruction and The Hardy Boyz, with the winner to receive a Unified tag-title shot against the Hart Dynasty. Thank-you."

The crowd was buzzing at this proclamation.

The Verboten-Tron went dark for only a minute before the face of the owner reappeared. "Sorry," he apologized "I guess I should tell you who the ref is gonna be, right? This person has a history with all four participants and should therefore not show any favoritism whatsoever. Here is your referee."

The screen went dark again and then, to everyone's surprise, the owner himself walked down to the ring. After learning that Show-Miz were no longer tag champs, he'd been surprised that the BOD were still up for this match.

"Let me clarify the rules for this match... the first member of the team to get his brother off will be the winner. However, masturbation does not count, just to be clear. Let's get this show on the road..."

Erik stepped out of the ring, allowing both the BOD and the Hardys to make their entrances. Nodding to the timekeeper, the bell rang to start the match. The theory behind the match was one team was going to have to be incapacitated anyway since the Hardys weren't gonna just stand there and watch 'Taker and Kane go at it and vice-versa. The match was also contested under tornado rules, meaning all four men were in the ring at the same time.

Matt faced off again Kane while Jeff and Taker renewed their rivalry.

Kane felt none of Matt's initial blows, but the first punch he threw was sure felt by the young Hardy, knocking him into the ring ropes. Kane tried to tie Matt up quickly, but Jeff scurried over and dropkicked Kane over the top rope. He landed on his feet and glared at Jeff, then at his brother, then at Erik, then at some guy selling popcorn in the tenth row, then back at Jeff before climbing back into the ring to mete out more pain on Matt.

After briefly interrupting Matt and Kane, Jeff had returned to Mark and was trying to do something to get the big man off his feet, but having no success at all.

"Gonna hafta do better than that, son." Mark chuckled

"Alright 'Taker, I will." Jeff bounced off the ropes and went for Mark's often-injured knee. He staggered back two steps, but quickly recovered, sending Jeff flying with one well-placed punch. With Jeff writhing in pain, Mark dispatched him over the top rope to the floor. He then joined Glenn in double-teaming Matt.

"Question, man. Am I topping or are you?" Mark asked

"What the fuck you talkin' 'bout, Taker?" Glenn answered

"The stipulation of this match. One of us has to get the other off and hands don't count. That limits our options."

"How about oral?" Glenn asked, while whipping Matt into the opposite turnbuckles and following him in with a hard clothesline.

"Unless your sex drive has gone up over the years..."

"Point taken. It's a good thing we're not really brothers, right?" Glenn effortlessly caught Jeff, who had just leaped from the top, and slammed him to the mat. "Let's get these two tied up somewhere and then you can bang me like you used to."

"Exactly what I was thinking." Mark replied, feeling his cock start to twitch. In between his first and second marriages, he'd unintentionally discovered how much pleasure his fellow freak was capable of giving. The things Glenn was capable of doing, and taking, sometimes invaded Mark's mind, even when he was with his wife. "Ring ropes or electrical cable?"

"Cable might be better..."

"I don't think so." Glenn suddenly received a conchairto from Matt and Jeff, sending him back into the near ropes. His body weight caused himself to become tied up in seconds, which turned the tide in favour of the brothers Hardy.

"One down, one to do." Both Matt and Jeff got ready to swing their chairs at Mark.

"C'mon, I'll take both of you at once if I have to." Mark beckoned them to try something.

"That sounds like fun." Jeff laughed, as did Matt. "But no one can handle both of us at the same time."

"That's not what I... fuck!" Too late, Mark realized that their joviality was a set-up. Matt charged at Mark, dropping right in from of him, letting Jeff use his body to springboard into the dead man. Normally this was done with the opponent braced against the turnbuckles, but this time, the only support Mark had was the opposite side ring ropes and they did very little to cushion the blow before he tumbled to the arena floor.

"Get him, Jeffro." Matt jumped out of the ring. Jeff's momentum had carried him out of the ring as well. "Find something to tie him up with."

Mark was dragged over to the announcers table and after tossing the monitors aside, was securely immobilized with cables.

"Looks like we got it now, Jeffro?" Matt smiled

"Yeah, big brother... shall we win the match now?" Jeff smiled right back.

"Yeah, but not here... in the middle of the ring... I want Kane to have to watch." Matt rolled back in under the bottom rope, Jeff close behind. The Big Red Machine was trussed up like the Big Red Turkey he was.

"I don't think so." The Hardys realized, only just too late, that while they had been taking Mark out of the match, Kane had managed to free himself. "Now you'll see."

A double choke slam left both of them on the canvas, grimacing in agony. "Me and my brother will win this match, then take those tag titles. Just wait."

Glenn jumped from the ring and started to free Mark from his chains, but had very little success. If there was one thing Matt and Jeff were good at, it was knots.

"Mark, I can't..." Glenn groaned "Somebody get me a knife."

"Forget that... you wanna win the match, then fuck me." Mark rolled over as much as he could, which wasn't much. "That's all you have to do."

Glenn lay down beside Mark and tried to maneuver his brother into a position that would allow him to do the deed.

"This isn't gonna work." Kane said, annoyed with his inability.

"Then it looks like I'm gonna fuck you." Mark answered. The only position that was truly attainable was the one Mark was currently in... flat on his back. "I know it ain't the way you usually do it, but think of all the money we'll make as champions."

In the ring, the Hardys were slowly stirring.

"Be right back, big brother." Kane returned to the ring and delivered two tombstone piledrivers to their opponents. "Hopefully, that will keep them down long enough."

"I hope so." Mark agreed "I take a while to warm up."

"Don't worry about that." Glenn said "Just leave everything to me." He started tearing at Mark's trunks, while rubbing and groping at him at the same time.

The second that Mark's cock was out in the open, Erik took notice. Unfortunately, so did Matt, despite the ringing headache.

"Uhhh... Jeff. Take a look at that." He pointed

It took Jeff a moment to focus. "Oh, crap, Matty. What are we gonna do?"

"Beat them to the punch?" Matt answered

"Okay Matty, but tonight you gotta be my bitch."

"At least it's you."

Matt crawled over to Jeff and began working his pants off.

"Matty, you're hopeless." Jeff wriggled out of his clothes. "Here."

Matt took Jeff's eager member into his mouth and started sucking really fast. He also knew what made his brother feel good.

"Mmmz." Jeff sighed "Matty, we got it. Get your pants off."

Matt nodded, stripping his own clothes off.

...

"Dammit, they're back up!" Mark shouted

Glenn looked over and saw what his brother had. "Shit!"

"Yeah... you need to learn how to tombstone someone properly." Mark responded

"I'll be right back..."

"The hell you will. Spread 'em and let's win this thing." Mark was completely hard, and desperately wanting to feel the warmth of Glenn around his rigid pole.

With a tug and a thrust, Glenn sat down on Mark's dick and started to move up and down. This was a first for Glenn; normally he was a giver, even when he was with his on-and-off lover-slash-brother. The entire lightweight division, when there was one, could at one point or another count themselves among Kane's conquests and every one of them was sore for a week.

But being abused like this didn't bother him. In fact, he rather enjoyed not having to do all the work for a change and riding along with Mark's thrusts and it was getting him really excited. So excited, that a few quick strokes could make him explode on his own, but the 'rules' of the 'match' stipulated that hands didn't count. Instead he focused on making sure that Mark hit his sweet spot every time.

In the ring, Matt was still sucking up a storm, despite Jeff wanting something else. Eventually, Jeff's desire to not be the bottom for once overrode the pleasure he was receiving and he flipped Matt onto his back. Already well-lubed up, he entered his older brother with no other preparation.

"Relax, Matty... it won't take long." Jeff whispered in his ear.

"I know." Matt beamed. He knew what to do with his mouth and was proud of it.

Now Erik had to split his attention between the two pairs going at it in different parts of the arena. Not an easy task under any circumstances. Add to that, the rules stating that only one member of the pair had to come for the match to be over, that made it all the more complex. For all he could see, Mark was two seconds away from shooting his wad into Glenn or Jeff into Matt.

"C'mon, Mark... I'm close." Glenn leaned back, changing the angle of Mark's penetration just enough for his dick to slam directly against his prostate. "Yes... oh God, Dead Man..."

"Shoot it, ya Monster." 'Taker growled, drilling into Glenn with every bit of him. "Pretend I'm one of those twinks you suck off after the show."

Glenn's eyes rolled back into his head and he groaned loudly. He looked down at his dick, watching it swell and throb against the rest of his pale skin.

In the ring, Matt was also nearing his release. He was being fucked harder and faster than he'd expected and it was driving his libido into overdrive. His dick was quivering in anticipation of the explosion that was churning in his balls and it was all Matt could do not to grab himself and finish the job manually.

"I'm gonna come." He groaned "Ref, I'm coming..."

Erik was now flicking his gaze quickly between the two teams. It looked like a matter of seconds before one, if not both, Glenn and Matt exploded. And seconds later, it happened.

Almost simultaneously, both Matt and Glenn experienced the most intense orgasms of their lives. Erik looked from Kane's splattered chest, to Matt's, then back at Kane.

_Shit... now what?_

He looked from Mark, who was still panting heavily, to Glenn, who was staring dumbly at the mess on his chest, then over at the two brothers in the ring. Jeff was still fucking Matt blindly, despite his brother already having finished. This gave Erik an idea. He grabbed the microphone.

"Ladies and gentlemen, that was too close to call. Therefore, I am making an executive decision. The tag titles will be defended at the next pay per view, but it will be a triple threat match. The Hart Dynasty versus the Brothers of destruction versus the Hardy Boyz!"

"Yesss..." Jeff screamed. It was probably a combination of joy and his own orgasm.

Mark, the only one who hadn't finished, looked like sex was the last thing he cared about. He'd only gone along with this match because Glenn wanted gold, and he wasn't sure if he could do something like what he'd just done any time soon. But that's another story...

_Next... Y2J meets Captain Charisma... for InYourHonour_


	6. The Peep Show

"Hey guys, I'm baaaaack!" Christian flashed his trademark goofy smile. When he agreed to do a special RAW shot of his immensely popular talk show segment, his initial fear was that it was going to degenerate into something, but that all changed when he heard that Y2J was his scheduled guest. At least he could introduce Chris himself, and not be interrupted by a Spanish-speaking penguin.

"Jay!" Adam was surprised. "When I heard Erik had brought in a guest, I didn't think it was gonna be you."

"Me neither." Jay replied "But what can I say? Erik knows how to bring ratings."

"I'll say." Adam smiled

"Have you seen Jericho around? He's my guest on the Peep Show and I would like to talk to him beforehand."

"Try catering." Adam's smile faded.

"We'll hang out afterward, bro." Jay knew that look all too well. "Catch up on shit."

"Cool. I'd like that." His smile returned.

...

"Welcome all my Peeps to a very special episode of the Peep Show." Jay greeted the raucous Motor City crowd. "My guest tonight needs no introduction since he claims to be the best at what he does, but if I don't, I'll be standing here by myself for the rest of the segment. I give you Chris Jericho."

After not winning the title at the Night of Champions, it was a very sour-looking Chris Jericho that came out to some cheers, but a lot more boos.

"So Chris, if I said I was surprised that you couldn't pull it off, I'd be lying to you..."

"Christian, I didn't come out here to pander to these people, nor did I come out here to listen to your incoherent ramblings. I came out here to make a statement. I am still the best at what I do and Night of Champions was just a minor setback." Jericho's steel gaze cut right through Christian. "Now, unless you have something pertinent to ask, I would suggest that you cut this short before I make an example of you, you gelatinous tapeworm."

"Okay Chris, what's next for the self-professed greatest?" Christian asked "I mean, are you going to leave like you promised and return to the world of game shows, or is there something else you think you can do..."

"What I choose to do is not anyone's concern but mine. Not yours, not these people, and sure as hell not the new owner of this perverse brand." His voice was dangerously close to inaudible range with his low tone.

"Just as long as it's not fashion, I don't see a problem." Christian stated

"Just what exactly are you insinuating. The clothes I wear..."

"...look like something you bought at the Salvation Army." Christian interrupted "I mean, could you get a suit any cheaper-looking than that?"

"Very funny. At least I don't shop a K-mart." Chris glowered, but Jay was not the kind of guy to back down. "Could those jeans get any tighter and that shirt... what are you thinking?" Dropping his microphone suddenly, he ripped Jay's shirt open.

"Is that how it's gonna be?" Jay returned the favor. Chris looked down at his exposed chest and, could it be said, was he actually smiling?

"Yes, that's how it's gonna be?" Chris threw himself at Jay, but instead of punching him, he started kissing him, wet, slobbery kisses that took both their breaths away. They fell onto the mat, and rolled around, each man clamoring to be on top of the other. Clothes were getting torn, muscles were squeezed, nipples pinched, yet neither man would let go of the other's mouth.

"Mmm..." Chris opened his mouth even wider, gripping Jay's short hair and mashing their faces together. Their tongues tangled together, dancing over the contours of each other's teeth, seeking out their individual tastes.

Jay delved deeper, eliciting a deep guttural moan out of Y2J. His finger snaked inside the door dress blues, rubbing the still well-defined muscles that, even though he was pushing the big four-oh, made Chris seem younger.

_Damn, Jay... what the fuck you doin' to me?_

Although he had not spoken aloud, Christian seemed to read Jericho's thoughts. His fingers trailed lower, teasing the flesh between his navel and the waistband of his dress slacks. The touch was light enough to send a shiver through his entire body.

"Jay, I... "

"Don't even think about finishing that. If you're the best at what you do, then you should be taking me like some backstreet slut." Jay whispered into Chris' ear. The slutty words went straight to his groin, causing the first of what he hoped were pleasant stirrings. This didn't go unnoticed by Jay, who stuck his fingertips inside Chris' belt, running them along the fabric of whatver the cocky superstar wore for underwear.

Chris groaned. He'd always had a soft spot for being talked dirty to. He tried to figure out exactly what Jay meant, but his thoughts were cut short when Jay rolled, allowing Chris to pin him to the mat.

"Oh..." Chris moaned. He used one hand to cup Jay's head and brought the other one between their bodies, brazenly squeezing his denim-covered bulge. _That's what he meant._ His fingers massaged between their bodies, bringing both of their cocks to attention in a very short span of time. Now all he wanted to do was free Jay's and give it the attention it deserved. Attention that he tried to deny his involvement in since one night many years ago. The words "Spike, get the towels" had a special place in his heart and often began one of his favorite fantasies.

It was a tight squeeze, particularly because Jay kept moving around each time Chris' fingers danced near the tip, but he eventually forced Jay's zipper open and pulled his dick through the front of his boxers. He stroked it a few times, then finally broke the seal of their mouths. Jay pouted, until he realized exactly what Y2J was playing at.

Mouthing a kiss, Chris slid down Jay's legs until he was in position. Licking softly at the base of Jay's cock, he soon turned his attention to the heavy sac that hung just below. He took first one, then the other, then both of his nuts into his mouth, sucking and humming around them.

Christian arched his back. Chris increased the intensity of what he was doing enough to drive Jay to the brink of oblivion, but not enough to bring him over it. That would only happen after Chris had buried himself deep inside Jay's quite willing body.

The sensations building inside Jay were enough to block out everything, including the sound of his own breathing, the crowd noise, as well as Chris removing the rest of his garments and throwing them to ringside.

"Oh God, Chrissy... I need more." Jay's body was to the point where the briefest of touches or the barest of breaths was enough to make him tremble uncontrollably.

Jericho loved the fact that it was he doing these things to Jay. For years, Jay had played hard to get, but now he was literally begging for it. He probed lower with his fingers, parting the two globes of Jay's ass and tickling the hole between. As expected, Jay squirmed, seemingly trying to get Chris' fingers inside him just by pure luck.

Chris chuckled. Oh yes, something was going between Jay's cheeks, but it wasn't going to be his fingers, nor was it going to be by chance.

"Oh Captain, my Captain." Chris leaned over and whispered huskily into Jay's ear while freeing his own erection from the uncomfortable confines of his pants. It shook in the cooler outside air, pointing at Jay with every beat of Chris' heart.

"This is why I am the best at what I do." Without another word, Chris entered Jay's willing crevice. He encountered a little resistance, but with a few gentle caresses and a kind word or two was able to bury himself to the hilt with ease.

He started moving inside Jay, slow strokes at first, but one look in Jay's eyes told him that the younger Canadian wanted it, no needed it, to be fast and rough.

"Here goes." Chris thrust his hips back and forth, entering Jay to a different level each time. Just looking at his own cock disappearing into the man was sending his own senses to the point of no return, but he couldn't in good conscience finish before Jay. He held back, watching Jay's dick for the slow spasms that spelled his release.

"This is... oh, fuck, Chris you gotta... I mean... I can't... I'm gonna..." Jay's words were reduced to rambles.

"Do it." Chris leaned over to kiss Jay, cutting off the rest of his speech. "Cum for me. I wanna see it."

That was all Jay needed. With a grunt, that would've been a hell of a lot louder if Chris hadn't tied up his mouth. He shot thick jets of fluid in the air, falling on the mat as well as across his chest. That was all Chris needed. The sight of Jay, so helpless in his own orgasm, sent his dick into convulsions and he filled Jay with his own love juices.

Both so totally satisfied, lying in the ring, neither of them wanted the moment to end, but unfortunately they couldn't spend the rest of the night cuddling on-camera. Like it was no big thing, they each gather their respective clothes and returned to the back, Christian walking with a little wider gait and Jay also having to support his new-found love. They headed directly for the locker room for a much needed shower.

"Uhhh... what the hell did we just do?" Once the rush evaporated, Jay was a little shocked. Of all the people to lose his ass-virginity to, he never would've thought it would be Chris.

"We just had the most explosive sex of our lives." Chris answered, washing the residue of their lovemaking from his body.

"Oh, good, then I wasn't dreaming." Jay answered, turning around to let the hot spray clean off his abused backside.

Neither man spoke for a minute.

"So, is there a chance that..." Jay hesitated, his face flushing red when he saw the look Chris was giving him.

"What? That what happened out there wasn't a one-time thing?" Chris pretended to think about it. "If you can find a way to get away from Smackdown, then I'd say there is a very good chance that stuff like that will occur more frequently."

"I don't know what to say..."

"Then shut up and kiss me, assclown!" Chris leaned it to grab hug and a quick smack before anyone else needed to use the room. "And remember who loves you."

_You do, Chris. You do._

_...  
_

"Now that was what I call entertaining." Erik and his associate had thoroughly enjoyed the show.

"Uh-huh." Alexx had found the scene incredibly erotic. "I wonder if we can get the Peep show back on a regular basis."

"As long as Christian doesn't fuck Jericho on every episode, that might be a possibility. We don't want the audience to get bored with the same old stuff, now do we?"

"No, sir."

"What's the next segment?"

"It's... oh boy." Alexx read from the run sheet.

"Oh boy?" Erik asked "That doesn't sound real good to me."

"It's just that... well, you read it." Alexx handed the sheet back to Erik, who quickly scanned it.

"I see what you mean." Erik's eyebrows furrowed. "Oh boy is right..."

_Up next, Undertaker and Jeff for Brook Calaway... _

_Remember, reviews are always appreciated, as well as suggestions for pairings and matches!_


	7. PreProduction

The owners of RAW arrived for their production meeting early Monday, but neither of them were prepared for what they saw. And that is saying a lot, considering what they had been broadcasting since taking over. Full male nudity, graphic sex, among other things were the staples of the new RAW since switching over to HBO. On the plus side, their ratings were even higher that the highest RAW during the Monday Night Wars.

"What the hell is going on here?" Erik and Alexx pushed their way through the crowd of talent.

"I dunno. 'Taker just went ballistic." Zack Ryder replied "I'm not sure if it's the whole Bearer thing or what, but he's been a real tool lately."

"Could I have everyone's attention, please." Erik announced "There is a reason why you are all on RAW. You're willing to push the envelope with your characters. I would appreciate in future, if someone from Smackdown asks to use you, that you would at least have the decency to let me know. I will deal with the Undertaker personally, assuming someone can tell me where he is."

"Just follow the mess." Randy Orton was one of the fortunate ones, not having to deal with a cranky Undertaker.

"Production meeting in fifteen minutes. I expect you all there." Erik stated "With the exception of you, you, and you. You've been sent to Smackdown."

Mark Henry, Michael Cole, and Michael Tarver looked at each other.

"They told me that they want to do something with Henry, Tarver just plain sucks, and Michael Cole, I have yet to figure out exactly how you've managed to keep your job for this long. The only time the ratings drop is when you have more than five words to say. I would put you in a match, but after the Big Dick Johnson fracas, I'm not taking any chances and even HBO won't allow me to air what amounts to a snuff film during prime time." Erik said "Anything else I was supposed to remind them?"

Alexx whispered something into Erik's ear.

"And that warning about touching my referee still stands. Contrary to Twitter rumours, Triple H is NOT injured. Now if you'll excuse me." Erik pushed past everyone, and went in search of his wayward Phenom.

...

The Undertaker was in a real bad mood. His plans to defect to Smackdown with Kane had literally gone to hell. Paul Bearer had been brought in, to Mark's original delight, and then the morons that pass for their creative team had decided that it would be a good idea to pull a swerve less than two weeks later. Add to that his frustration with the outcome of the incest match, where not only had he been the only person not to get off, but also being unable to find someone to satisfy him and Mark was on edge. He needed a conquest and he needed one right the fuck away. It was just a matter of who.

"Modest... to the top..."

Mark smiled for the first time in days. He'd found that someone.

Jeff didn't know what hit him. The second he'd laid eyes upon Mark, he knew something was up, but that was it. In seconds, 'Taker had him draped over his shoulder and he was being carried deep into the bowels of the arena.

"Markie, put me down!" Jeff struggled

"Oh, I'll put you down, alright." Mark chuckled "But not because you say so."

"Meanie!" Jeff began to pound Mark's back, trying to make the big man break the hold.

"Don't make me have to whip you." Mark growled.

Jeff whimpered. Mark's love of leather was well-known.

Kicking the door open to a currently-unused storage room, Mark finally did set Jeff back on his feet.

"Better?" His voice was husky with desire.

"Much." Jeff rubbed his arms to get some circulation back.

"Good. Now take those pretty little clothes off." Mark moaned, already removing his Harley-Davidson t-shirt. "Don't make me have to undress you."

"But why?" Jeff whined "You've always claimed that I wasn't your type."

"Right now, anyone is my type." Mark tugged at his belt. "Now clothes off, mouth closed, unless you wanna taste some leather."

Jeff knew it was helpless to resist and, sighing softly, began to undress.

"Yeah, that's it." Mark whispered, kicking his jeans to one side while he waited for Jeff. His erection was already tenting out the front of his briefs and Jeff, against his will, found that he couldn't stop staring at it.

"See something ya like, twink?" Mark also couldn't stop staring.

"Maybe?" Jeff purred, tossing his clothes into a pile. Naked as the day he was born, he presented himself to Mark. "Depends if you can use it." He pressed his palm against it. "You didn't seem to do much when we had you tied down."

Mark resisted the urge to throttle Jeff. Instead, he just smiled. "Well, Glenn ain't exactly GQ material, now is he? But you..." He reached down and rubbed Jeff's flaccid penis. "you make ninety percent of the locker room hard."

"Well, ya." Jeff wriggled free from Taker's grip. "The other ten percent wouldn't know a free blowjob if it jumped up and started sucking on them."

"Speaking of that," Mark lowered his underwear. "say hello to my not-so-little friend."

Jeff could resist a lot of things, but a throbbing cock was not one of them. He quickly knelt in front of Mark and curled his fingers around what Mark was giving him. Mark watched Jeff give his dick a few slow strokes. Normally this slow attention frustrated the Dead Man, but Jeff's fingers were so soft, and his touches were so light, that it sent an electrical charge right to his core.

_This may be over a lot faster than I thought..._ Not since his first male love encounter, when he was sixteen, had Mark been this close to finishing this quickly. Jeff seemed to have a sixth sense about it and slowed his fingers, but it didn't have the desired effect.

"Jeff, please, I need you." Mark groaned

"My mouth or my ass?" Jeff asked

"It doesn't matter. I'm not going to last long either way." Brutally honest, yes, but not something he'd ever want to leak to the WWE.

"M'kay." Jeff released his hold. Mark expected that Jeff would take the easy way, and suck him off, but to his surprise he was wrong. Jeff quickly wet his entrance and then slammed Mark's pole inside him.

"Oh fuck..." Mark's knees buckled with the welcome friction.

Jeff wiggled his hips from side to side, intensifying the feelings. "You likey, Marky-Mark?"

"Bitch, don't ever fuckin' call me that." Mark grabbed two handfuls of Jeff's ass. He was the Undertaker after all, and that meant control of any situation he was in. He began to thrust deeply into Jeff, long strokes that brought Jeff as much pleasure as he himself was receiving. "No one calls me that..."

"Okies, Marky-Mark..." Jeff giggled

Mark continued to keep pace, or so it seemed. He was really trying to last longer than thirty seconds, but Jeff was just so tight. His breathing got louder, and his thrusts got more urgent as he fought against what his body desperately wanted.

"Come in my ass." Jeff whispered sluttily. "That's what you want, isn't it? Prove you're still the Big Dog, right?"

"Jeff, I..." The rest of Mark's words turned into a wolf-like howl as he released deep inside Jeff. Jeff squeezed his ass, draining every drop out of Mark before allowing him to pull out.

"I hope this means you won't be a grumpy-puss no more." Jeff leaned up against the wall. Mark noticed that he was still hard and the urge to do something that he'd never done before entered his mind.

"Maybe, but for now... thanks." Mark sighed

"Thanks?" Jeff repeated the word as if foreign. "Wha..." The rest of his question turned into a gasp when, in the span of two seconds, Mark reversed their positions and started sucking noisily on Jeff.

This came as a total surprise. Mark was a pleasure-taker, not a giver. This had been proved, confirmed, and reconfirmed by everyone Mark had intimate contact with.

A part of Jeff thought this was a joke, and instinctively he tried pushing Mark's mouth away, but 'Taker dug his fingers into Jeff's hip dents and held him in place while he continued to suck like his life depended on it. It was rushed, sloppy, and more than once Jeff felt 'Taker's teeth scrape roughly against him, but it was still enough to bring Jeff to orgasm almost as fast as he'd brought Mark.

"'Taker, Imma coming!" Receiving a blowjob from the Phenom was unexpected, but at least he wouldn't swallow. Not many of Jeff's partners did. That was the thought going through Jeff's mind, but either Mark wanted to, or he didn't hear the Enigma.

"Marky, you're gonna hafta stop or I'll..." Mark reached down and rubbed Jeff's balls.

_Okay, so he heard me._ Jeff bore down, trying to prevent himself from coming. Now that he knew what the outcome would be, he wanted to draw it out. Who knew when, if ever, it would happen again.

Mark mumbled something that sounded like "Fuckin' come already!" before overloading Jeff's senses with his mouth and fingers. Jeff looked down, and that was it. He shot into Mark's waiting mouth, stream after stream of him going down his throat until he could shoot no more. Eventually, Mark eased Jeff out of his mouth. Jeff slid down the wall, totally exhausted, and sat on the floor, watching as Mark quietly redressed.

"You better throw some clothes on unless you want me to carry you to the production meeting." Mark chuckled

Jeff didn't reply right away. His young mind was still trying to process what had just happened. Had Mark really just sucked him off or was it just a very vivid daydream?

"Fine have it your way." Mark, now dressed, picked Jeff up and slung him over his shoulder.

"EEK!" Just like he'd fought not to be taken in, Jeff now fought not to be dragged out. "Put me down..."

I wish I could've been at that production meeting when Mark and Jeff finally showed up... oh wait a minute, I was! Remind me to tell you about it sometime..."

_Next time, a little change from the usual... I'm going to have some fun with the Nexus!_


	8. Joining the NeXXXus

"Okay, folks, could we please try to get this production meeting over with before the next presidential election." Erik was trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy, but it was very difficult. Everyone wanted to pay more attention to Jeff, still naked, than what Erik was trying to say. "I know you're all thinking with another part of your anatomy, but c'mon, who hasn't seen Jeff naked recently?"

"Yeah, but he's so cute and cuddly..." That sounded strange, being said in a strong British accent, but it got everyone's attention.

"Point taken, but aren't there enough twinks in Nexus already?" Erik answered

"We can always use one more. Cena doesn't seem to be enjoying himself." Wade responded

"I wouldn't be having a whole lot of fun if I had to listen to you, either." Erik responded "What the hell... until Jeff gets some clothes on, you're not gonna pay any attention to me anyway, so the run sheet is up here. I expect all of you to know what you're doing tonight. I'll be in my office if there are any questions."

Erik and Alexx left.

"What are we doing tonight?" Alexx asked "I didn't get a chance to look at the rundown myself."

"We're doing a twenty-man over the top rope battle royal. Winner gets a title shot at our first XXX pay-per-view." Erik replied

"That doesn't sound like what we've been doing." She answered "I mean, throwing people over the top rope is really tame..."

"It's not the people going over the top rope, just their ring gear." Erik answered "It's basically last-man standing with clothes on wins. Anyway, that's later tonight."

...

"I told you that Cena as part of Nexus isn't gonna work." Slater complained "I mean, he's already managed to get Tarver sent to Smackdown."

"I am not concerned with Michael Tarver." Wade answered "I am the leader of Nexus and John Cena will do what he is told. I am going to make that perfectly clear to our esteemed General Manager. You and Gabriel keep an eye on him. Otunga, you're with me."

Barrett glanced over his shoulder at John, slumped in a corner, and smiled. He was going to break Cena's will, one way or the other. How, he didn't know, but he was sure he could throw his weight around if he had to.

Cena was slumped in the corner. He really hated the position he'd been thrown into. Erik had been jockeying for RAW to once again get it's own Pay-Per-Views since taking over, but upper management had been stalling, saying that since the RAW superstars were contractually obligated to appear on Superstars, then they also had to appear on the joint shows, which meant having to do PG-things as opposed to the more risque plot lines Erik's show featured. Hence, then entire Nexus angle. It sucked, but until Erik could find away around that little loophole, he had no choice.

John had come to him right after the match, preparing to quit the company right away. It was only a promise that the association would be short-lived that kept him from walking out. How that promise was going to be kept was confusing, but Erik's words were the only thing that was keeping John going. Even Justin and Heath could see that.

"Y'know, working for Wade really isn't that bad." Justin sat down beside Cena. "There are perks to it."

"Fuck off." John replied. He wanted to slap the accent right out of his mouth, but that was another thing he couldn't do. "I may have to take orders from that dumb Limey, but that doesn't mean I have to listen to you."

"True." Justin shrugged, looking over at Heath, who quietly went over and locked the door. "But it won't be for too long."

"I know, already. It's been explained to me." Cena started at the floor. "Can't you two just leave me alone?"

"Sorry, but Wade ordered us to make you feel welcome in Nexus and if we don't, we'll be the ones fed to the wolves." Heath answered

"Just how do you plan to do that?" Cena snarled

"Like this." Justin leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. John flinched, then drew back.

"Look, I have no problems with nudity, but I'm not into dudes."

"Then think of Heath and I as two really flat-chested girls with deep voices..."

John did have to admit that he found the South African's accent sexy, but this was too much. As far as he knew, sex was not part of his agreement.

"Thank-you, but no thank-you." John stood up. "I would rather stick with being Barrett's bitch than the two of yours."

"I think you got it wrong. We're not asking you to be our bitch... we want to be yours." Heath winked. "With Darren gone, Skip injured, and now Tarver traded, there isn't much left. Otunga and Barrett do their own thing..."

John's mind was going in twelve different directions all at the same time.

"The only thing you need to worry about is sitting that ass of yours down and letting Heath and I do all the work." Justin said, his face inches from John's. "Trust me, it's your only option right now." After he said that, he flicked his tongue against John's earlobe. John inhaled sharply at the unexpected contact.

"Just relax." Justin repeated, nibbling softly on the fleshy part of John's right lobe. Heath sat on the other side and did the same thing. "We want this about as much as you want to stay in the company." His fingers teased under the hem of John's shirt and started pulling it up. Between he and Slater, John was soon hatless, shirtless, and beltless.

"Guys, this isn't..."

"Sure it is." Heath knelt between John's legs and tugged open his jean shorts. "Looking at this, part of you thinks it is too."

Gabriel looked down and gasped. John was packing some serious heat. He whistled and reached down to stroke along the length. "Wow, and I thought Daniel Bryan was huge for a white guy... that isn't a pair of sweat socks, is it?"

Heath laughed, pulling down the front of John's boxers. "Nope."

Justin continued kissing down John's neck, nibbling on it enough to leave marks in the shape of the letter N. "Now he knows who he belongs to." He gave John's chest a tongue bath as he headed even further down his body, tracing each and every part of his six-pack, dipping into his navel, and across the shaved skin just above his massive erection. He lapped at the salty skin before winking at Heath just before swallowing his entire cock with one gulp.

"Holy fuck!" John groaned, arching upwards when he felt Justin's lips seal around him. "Where'd you learn... I mean, no one has ever... oh man..."

Heath smiled. Reducing the master of the seven-minute promo to gibberish with one simple movement was a sight to behold. But that wasn't all. Heath stood up and, once he was sure that John was watching him, slowly disrobed.

John's eyes widened when the one-man rock band was finally exposed. Heath lifted his leg on the bench and presented John with his own stiff piece of meat.

"Go on," he whispered "Take it. It's all yours."

John had never had a cock in his mouth before, but the way Heath's was pointing at him, the head glistening with drops of precum, was too much to resist. He grabbed Slater's legs, pulling him closer, and devoured him in much the same way Justin was doing him.

Heath bucked his hips in time to John's sucking, building up a steady rhythm. John was a little rough, scraping his teeth against the vein in the back, but Heath liked it rough. Sheamus could vouch for that during the time they tagged in FCW. Heath drove himself steadily into John's mouth.

"Keep it up... ooh, just like that." Heath closed his eyes briefly, then looked down at his fellow Nexus member going to work on John with his mouth and his own cock with his hand. He felt a little sorry for Gabriel.

"On the floor, Cena." Heath pulled out. "Right now."

Cena looked a little saddened that Heath was no longer connected to him, but he eased himself onto the hard concrete.

"It's a little unfair that you're having all the fun." Heath repositioned Cena and Gabriel into a triangle shape. "That's better... now as we were."

He stuck his dick back in John's face and John immediately began to suck again. With his own mouth, Slater started to suck Justin, who continued to suck Cena. The only sounds were muffled groans as each man's pace increased as the pleasure they were receiving increased.

John looked at Heath, then Justin, asking each of them the same wordless question. They both nodded in reply.

"Me first." Justin mounted Cena, his engorged organ sliding easily inside Gabriel's tight ass hole. Justin bounced up and down, his grunts getting louder each time John impaled him.

The closer he got to release, the faster Justin rode John. "Grab on me, Cena." He panted "Jack me."

With no hesitation, even though it felt a little weird to have another guy's dick in his hand, John wrapped his long fingers around Gabriel's pulsing erection and started to pump it.

"Make me shoot, yeah, that's it. I'm gonna come all over your body... you want that, dontcha?" Justin's accent made the words sound all the more slutty. "You like me being your bitch, huh? You want to fill my ass. Shoot that big cock of yours inside me?"

John nodded. With a loud tremor going through his body, Justin leaned back and emptied his balls with a magnificent series of thick streams all over John's chest. He clenched his cheeks, tightening his grip around Cena, then realized he wasn't the only other person in the room.

He slid off John and let Heath take his place. The red-haired man took John in much the same way his compatriot had and they were very quickly fucking at the same hurried pace. Heath didn't know how much more restraint Cena had, but he knew his was really close to zero. He rubbed some of Justin's explosion across John's nipples, tweaking them to add the extra sensation to his already overloaded body.

He wiped Cena's hand across his chest, covering it with Justin's juices, then bringing it to his own penis. "Do me like you did him."

John began to stroke again.

"Faster." Slater moaned, arching into the strokes. "Jerk my fuckin' dick... yeah, that's it... faster... I'm ready... c'mon, yeah... I'm going to shoot... ahhhhhhhhhhhh!"

Several splatters of goo joined the painting on John's chest, making it gleam a lot more. He likewise, rolled off John.

"I told you being in Nexus had it's advantages." Justin said, waiting for Heath's heavy breathing to return to normal.

John sighed. _Used and abused._

Heath looked at Justin. "Hey, did we say we were done? Well, we are, but it doesn't look like you are." They lay down, one on either side, and proceeded to whisper dirty little things in his ear while taking turns stroking his cock, rubbing his balls, and fingering his ass until he came so hard he felt his eardrums bulge.

"So, are you still thinking about quitting?" Justin asking, tracing a pattern in the silvery splotches that still adorned John's body. "Or would you rather stay with us?"

"How often do I get this?" John asked, the thought of having the two young members of Nexus as his not entirely unappealing.

"Whenever you want." Heath whispered

"Then I guess it's true. Either your Nexus or you're against us." John snuggled against both men, for the first time comfortable with his new position.

...

"How did you know?" Otunga asked

"I've known Gabriel and Justin wanted a plaything since NXT." Barrett answered "Now that they've got one, they'll be easier to control. And control is what Nexus is all about."

_Up next... a little Legacy triple-threat action for Californiaa. Guurl.x.x_


	9. Legacy!

"Look, I'm the fucking World Champion, I've got an upcoming match against Wade fucking Barrett of all people and you want me to do what with Cody and Ted?" Randy was not at all pleased with his current assignment.

"I can't do anything about Barrett. He did manage to keep his clothes on during the battle royal." Erik responded "As for Cody and Ted, they're still steaming over being relegated to the background."

"That's bullshit." Randy pounded on the desk "Cody's one-half of the tag champs right now and Ted... I didn't even know he was on RAW."

"Sorry, but that's what I've been told. I don't like my champions being forced into matches either, but apparently Barrett has been pulling strings with people."

"Get rid of him then." Randy answered "Send the entire Nexus to Smackdown."

"I wish I could, but I'm not losing Cena. Until that PG-crap storyline ends, my hands are tied." Erik massaged the bridge of his nose. "Look, it's a one-night thing. Just forget about Nexus and take care of this. Priceless said they want you, and I'm giving you leeway to do whatever you want tonight. Just no amputations, okay?"

The look in the Viper's eyes told Erik that idea had crossed his mind.

"I promise I'll keep Nexus out of the way. I do draw the line at on-screen gang rapes." Erik sighed "Do this one little favor for me, and I'll do what I can to get send Nexus to Smackdown after the Pay-Per-View. Don't make me beg, please."

"Fine." Randy grumbled "Just this once."

"Thank-you." Erik dropped back into his chair, thankful that his pride was intact.

...

"Rhodes... DiBiase..." Randy kicked open the door. "What the fuck, man?"

Cody and Ted looked up from their card-playing. "Whaddaya menan?" Rhodes asked

"This. I mean, after what Hunter did to you two a while back, I'm surprised you'd even want to do anything like this." Randy's smirk was gone and in it's place was a cocky grin.

"What do you mean? We just wanna kick your ass for the way you treated us when we were in Legacy." Ted replied

"You know I don't believe you." Randy leaned against the wall. "If that was the case, you'd have dragged me to Smackdown or even lamer, Superstars. This is RAW, which means you obviously want something else out of me."

Ted looked at Cody, an "I told you he wasn't gonna fall for that" expression on his face.

"You got one minute before I go to our GM and tell him there won't be anything happening tonight because both of you are unconscious on the locker room floor." Randy grimaced "I don't care who, but one of you better start talking."

"You know Rhodes has a thing for you." Ted blurted out.

"Shut up, Ted." Cody hissed

"Who doesn't?" Randy retorted

"Lately he's been talking about wanting to restart the relationship..."

"Shut up, Ted." Cody repeated, a little louder.

"Is that what this is about?" Randy asked "Little Coddles wants to get back into my pants?" A hint of a smile curled at the corners of his mouth.

Cody turned a bright shade of red. "Um..."

"I do find that the ability to form a coherent sentence is often a good first step." Randy put his foot up on a bench and began unlacing his boot. "Um is not a good icebreaker."

Cody blushed a little darker.

"Or is Ted doing all your talking for you?" Randy tossed the boot aside and started working on the other one.

"Uh, yeah..." Cody scratched the back of his neck. "About that..." He looked at DiBiase for a bit of help.

"What Cody is trying to say is there's something he always wanted to try."

"And what would that be, Money Bags?" Randy asked

"I don't know how to put this..." Now it was Ted's turn to blush, "but Cody wants us both to fuck him."

Randy shrugged. "So? It's not like Cody is Mr. Innocent."

"At the same time." Ted added, clearing his throat.

Randy double-took. "You mean you and me... _inside him?_"

"That's what Codfish said."

"That is not what I said." Cody finally found his voice. "And stop calling me Codfish!"

"What did you say?" Any interest he didn't have when he stormed into the locker room was being replaced. Spending as much time together as they had, it was impossible to not know which way the various Legacy members went, but Randy had never thought of Cody that way. Oh sure, he'd known the kid played for any team that would have him, just ask various divas and some of the non-Big Show members of the roster, but this was Cody... and Cody wanted him?

"What I said was... Teddles... that I would do both you and Randy, but NOT" and that was clearly emphasized "at the same time. You two would tear me apart... actually Randy could do that all by himself, but that's not the point."

Now it was Randy's turn to blush. It was one of his flaws. Whenever he received an overly sentimental compliment, whether on his wrestling ability, or his looks, or even his sexual prowess, (Again, ask around the locker room... John Cena in particular.) he immediately felt like a schoolboy asking the cutest girl in his class to the ice-cream social.

"So you would do both of us, huh?" Randy tried to sound calm. "I guess there is hope for ya yet, Coddles."

Cody rolled his eyes. "I hate it when people call me that."

But it's so fitting." Randy cooed "It makes everyone think about a cute, young, innocent, boy."

"Boy!" If anything pissed Rhodes off more than 'Codfish' and 'Coddles' combined, it was being called 'boy'. "I'll show you boy!"

"Cody... what the..." Randy was pinned to floor by the younger man, who refused to let him up. "I didn't mean... umph..."

The rest of Randy's apology was muffled by Cody's mouth clamping down on his own. The kiss was passionate, Cody nipping, biting, and licking at Randy's soft, full lips until Orton started to get light-headed from the lack of oxygen and forced Cody's face away.

"A little help here!" He shouted. For a small man, Cody was still able to keep Orton on the ground and that was not a position the dominating Randy liked. "Ted!"

"Fine." Ted sighed "I told you he wasn't gonna go for it."

"Did I say that?" Randy replied, bringing looks of surprise to both men. "I just don't like Cody's bony ass cutting off the circulation to my lower body."

"In that case." Cody giggled, wriggling into another position, one directly above Randy's groin. "How's that?" He started to slowly move his hips back and forth, rubbing against the bulge.

_Better... kid's got talent, and just for the ring..._

A gasp was the only reply Randy could emit. His hand had been his only company for the last two weeks, so this was a welcome change.

Randy's hands traced across Rhodes' back, eliciting shivers of pure joy out of Cody. He massaged each muscle, tracing every bump of his spine, teasing his fingers lower, into the waistband of his trunks before becoming aware that his own trunks were being gradually removed from his body.

"Ted, you sly dog." Randy chortled "I never knew you had it in you."

"Take advantage of your opponent. That's one of the things you taught us in Legacy." Ted smiled, twirling Randy's tights around his finger before letting them fly off into a corner. "Probably the only useful thing, but we take what we can get."

On the cold floor, butt-naked except for his socks, Randy did feel completely vulnerable. But that didn't stop Cody from continuing what he was doing.

"Y'know, Codes... your tights are starting to chafe." Randy winked

"Then I guess I better get rid of them, eh?" At times like this, Cody's lisp was the epitome of sexiness. "Ted, a little help here."

"My pleasure."

Cody shifted his weight forward to assist Ted. Randy looked up appreciatively when Cody's cock, already hard, sprung free and bopped him on the chin. He longed to taste all of it, especially the beads of liquid already trickling down the sides of the long, smooth shaft.

"Go ahead, if you want to." Cody's eyes shined with a childish gleam. "Or would you rather this happened..." He started kissing Randy again, but only lingered on his lips for mere moments, before kissing his neck, his chest, his stomach, then dipping his tongue into his navel.

Randy arched his body into each touch. It felt like a combination of liquid of fire and ice every time that wonderful muscle of Cody's brushed against his skin. And his tongue felt like heaven as well, heating him up with only the slightest touch or the softest breath. He could only imagine what was going through Rhodes' mind, but his was... well, simple thoughts could not describe it.

"Shit, Rhodes, if I'd known you were this good... oh God!" Randy's voice rose several octaves when Cody drew his dripping manhood into his mouth. In one gulp, he took Orton down until his pubes were tickling the young man's nostrils.

Cody giggled again. Randy had always been the controlling member of Legacy, but now that Rhodes had Orton's member, he was completely out of control. He loved dominating Randy; loved how every nerve in his body was hot-wired around the feelings that he was giving him.

Standing behind Cody, Ted unashamedly watched. It was voyeurism pure and simple, but nothing was going to tear him away from this. However, he wanted more than to just stand there and rub his rapidly growing cock. He wanted to be a part of it and as you all know, a DiBiase always gets what he wants. Staring at Cody's pert cheeks, Ted knew how that was gonna happen. Removing his own clothes, he spit on his hand then used it to quickly lube himself up. There was no time for anything else.

_Don't move whatever you do. _Silently, Ted knelt behind him and before Cody could react, or protest, he had thrust inside.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Cody shrieked, his mouth coming off Randy's dick so fast that it was a good thing he hadn't been using his teeth at all or Orton might be getting an unwelcome gender reassignment. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Fucking you." Ted replied calmly. "I would've thought that would be obvious."

"But... ohhh." Cody's voice died when Ted hit his prostate dead on.

"I don't care who you are." Randy's voice interrupted "But if someone doesn't get back to me, there are going to be two RKO's in the very near future." He was glaring at both men, stroking his cock, but not looking like it was what he'd wanted.

Cody dipped his head and began to suck Randy anew. Feeling Ted hit his pleasure center time and time again at one end added to feeling Orton's dick throb and swell in the other end was making Cody really hot and bothered. He reached down to grab himself and started to get himself off.

"Yes... yesss... yesssss..." Ted's grunts were getting harder and his breathing much faster. While he continued to plow Cody, his eyes were staring into Orton's and he started to lose himself in them. Suddenly, Cody wasn't enough... he wanted the Viper.

"Orton, get over here." He growled "I wanna watch you fuck Rhodes."

Orton shrugged, quickly switching positions with DiBiase. "Whatever you say."

They began the same rhythm, only this time it was Randy doing the fucking and Ted getting sucked off by Cody.

"Fuck, yeah... put that pretty little mouth of yours to good use... you like that, dontcha? Sucking my big cock... I bet you can't wait for me to pump my load down your throat... give you something sweet to taste... mmm..."

Ted's low talking sent a tremor right to Randy's dick, and watching Cody work him to a peak was getting Randy real close to the edge. "That's it... you tell him what to do." Randy slammed hard against Cody, brushing his sweet spot. The charge it sent through Rhodes went right back through Randy's dick causing him to lose it. With a hoarse shout he came, filling Rhodes will an abundance of his special sauce. When he finally withdrew, he was completely and totally exhausted.

Feeling Randy come inside him sent Cody off and he quickly coated his own hand. The dual sensations of Randy's and his own orgasm caused him to deep throat Ted as far as he could. Feeling Cody's throat against his head made him scream out in ecstasy and do exactly what he'd promised... pump his load down the willing man's throat.

For a while, no one spoke. Instead, they basked in the afterglow of what had just happened.

"That was incredible." Cody sauntered off to find their discarded clothes.

Randy finally opened his eyes. "Yeah, but won't that spoil the mood. I mean, we still have to do something in the ring tonight."

Cody looked at Ted and smiled. Ted smiled back, chuckling.

"What?" Randy's eyes narrowed.

"Nothing." Cody nodded

"Three letters, guys." Randy growled "Remember that."

"It's just that... well... who said anything about getting you in the ring?" Cody replied

"But the GM said..." Randy knew he'd been ribbed and good. "I'll get both of you for this." He quickly stepped into his boots and stormed out, not bothering to lace them.

"Do you think he means that?" Ted asked

"I'm counting on it." Cody said "And hopefully more than once."

_Okay, here's what's going on... I need suggestions! The first person to send me a review with a pairing and a match suggestion will receive it in the next chapter._

_Rules:_

_No wrestler that I have already used can be used again._

_The pairing has to make sense. _

_And most importantly, no fat guys. I took enough flack for Big Dick Johnson._

_Good luck everyone! _

_(P.S. I already have a half-written one with Alex Riley, The Miz, and John Morrison, so they are also off-limits!)  
_


	10. Palace of Wisdom, Smackdown style

Pacing his office, Erik was not looking forward to that night's show... why?, you might ask. Because he was stuck at a Smackdown taping, having to watch his superstars make PG-fools of themselves to hype up Bragging rights.

"Do we really need to be here?" He asked Alexx. "I mean, they won't even let you referee a match."

Alexx shrugged "Just stare at the hot bods and go with the flow."

"Easy for you to say." Erik retorted, watching his crew come backstage. "I wish we had Kofi instead of Santino on our team... hey Morrison!"

"Yo, Erik, what's up!" John greeted his boss with a handshake. "Other than the ratings?"

"If I have to cowtow to political correctness once more, the ratings may drop faster than... well, you know." Erik sighed

"Not much you can do about that." John ran his fingers through his hair.

"As people keep telling me!" Erik stated "I hear you're not happy about being on the same team as the Miz."

"I guess I was wrong." John sighed "Everyone HAS heard about our break-up."

"It's a small family." Erik replied "Teddy has given me ten minutes for a RAW-based segment and, other than the team, there isn't much talent available. Can you do a live version of "The Palace of Wisdom"?"

"Sure, I guess. But who do I... I get it." John smiled

"Good man." Erik also smiled

...

"Good evening, Edmonton!" John greeted the typically loud Canadian crowd. "I'm John Morrison and I know why the hockey hall of fame is in Toronto... so Leafs fans can be close to the cup!"

The fans laughed.

"Prepare to open your minds while I drop some knowledge onto your brains. As you all know, Bragging Rights is this Sunday and if you recall, last year I lost to the Miz. That was bad... I'm sure you're asking yourselves what could be worse than that. Well, other than Big Show with a case of foot fungus, not much..."

John waited for the second wave of laughter to die down before continuing.

"... except being on the same team as the Miz this year. I know you all read the dirt sheets and know that Miz and I were a couple. The key word being 'were'. But I am not here to waste air time airing my personal story for you all, even though that would be much more entertaining. I am here to give a warning. Alex Riley, would you please join me in the Palace."

Backstage, Alex and the Miz were having a difference of opinion about whether or not the "Associate" should go out.

"This is Smackdown, he's not going to do anything stupid Mike." Alex said

"I know John. He's got something planned." Miz protested

"Don't worry about it. If he gets fresh, this Varsity Villain will put him in his place in a heartbeat." Alex nodded before heading out to the ring.

"Ahh, Alex. So good of you to join me in the Palace of Wisdom." John welcomed him. "You may wonder why I called you out here."

"You said you wanted to give me a warning." Alex answered "So let's hear it."

"I am going to take you on a ride into the past. Back to 2006... back when we were all young and free..." John waxed philosophical "Back in a time when men were men, women were women, and Mike Mizanin was not one-fifth of the man he claims to be..."

"You're delusional!" Riley interrupted, "You're just jealous 'coz Mike dropped you."

"Now who's deluding themselves? I don't know what he told you but I was the one who left him." Morrison shouted "He was too busy trying to convince everyone that he really was a 'chick magnet' to see what was right in front of his face. I got so sick of his pretending and his awesomeness that I left and now that I see what I've been replaced with, I'm glad I got out when I did."

"Number one... Mike and I are not, nor have we ever been, a couple. He was my mentor and I was his rookie. That was it. Period. End of story." Riley shouted

"Is that what he told you to say before or after he starting groping you in the backseat of his rental car? When he was whispering that it was all right to give in... that he could give pleasure like no one else." Morrison was screaming at the top of his lungs. "That he was" John's voice suddenly cracked "awesome."

Riley had a witty comeback all ready, but the words vanished from his memory. John had repeated, verbatim, the first encounter between himself and the Miz.. "But Miz said he loves me." He repeated "He told me so."

"That's a lie." Morrison answered "Just like everything else about him. He'll promise you the world, but you'll end up in the gutter. Take my advice and leave him before he leaves you."

"Awesome..." The music of the Miz interrupted this scene.

"Great, just great." Mike applauded against his MITB briefcase. "Now if you two are done spreading lies to the WWE universe, let me set the record straight..."

"Nice choice of words, Miz." John laughed. Even Alex cracked a smile.

"Hah hah." Mike sneered "There was never an 'us', John. I carried you when we were tag team champions and it was you who tried to make something more out of it. It was you who wanted to take our friendship to a place I have never, nor will never, go."

Alex's expression altered drastically when Miz said those words.

"Mike... but you said if I became your apprentice then we'd..."

"What I said was if you did what I told you, then maybe there would be a place for you in my inner circle. What have you done... you lose NXT, you cost me the U.S. Title, you've embarrassed me in front of all my Miz-fits. Just how do you figure you're even worth my time?" Miz waved the briefcase in front of Alex. "This is what it's worth because any time I want, any place I want, I will become the World Champion because I'm the Miz and I'm" a long pause "Awe-some!"

"You may be the Miz, but you're an idiot!" Morrison rapped Mike on the head with the mic. The briefcase went one way, the attitude the other, and the Miz ended up on his stomach with Morrison punching the holy hell out of him.

"Alex, help me!" Miz screamed, trying desperately to cover up.

"Help yourself." Alex, to everyone's shock, left the ring. This got him a few cheers. He didn't even stop to watch the beating John was administering to his former tag-team partner. He didn't care. All he wanted to do was find a dark corner and forget the name Mike Mizanin.

...

"Why is everyone staring at us?" Alexx asked Erik.

Erik looked to his right and to his left. "I think some people were thinking that this interview segment was going in a different direction." He waved to the various producers, none of whom looked real happy. "What? Did I cross some other line?"

Erik rolled his eyes. "Y'know, the only reason I'm doing this talent exchange is because some of my guys are a little shy. As soon as my pay-per-view deal comes through, I will serious reconsider it. By the way guys, my ratings for last week were 9.2." Triumphantly, he left the backstage area and headed for his limo, his very attractive referee right at his heels.

...

Beating the Miz to within an inch of his life was not as satisfying as John would've hoped. He had gone out with a plan, but that wasn't it. He wanted Mike back, and was originally going to take Riley out of the picture, but things hadn't gone as planned. He walked into the smaller locker room alloted to the RAW wrestlers, thankfully empty at the moment, and started to pack. At least he thought it was empty.

"Stupid Miz and his stupid catch phrases." John stared at his swollen hands. "Betcha don't feel so awesome now..."

A loud bang from the shower area started John and made him realize that he wasn't as alone to gloat as he thought.

"Someone there?" He shouted, hoping that maybe it was just the pipes settling or something else. The Arena was rather old, after all.

Another loud sound from the same area told him that it wasn't a plumbing problem. There was someone or something else in the room. His curiosity kicking in, John went back to investigate and found Alex Riley punching holes in the wall.

"I like what you've done with the place, but shouldn't you get a plumbing contractor to do that?" John tried to make a joke, especially when he saw how distraught Alex looked.

"I loved him, Johnny." Alex dropped to his knees, bringing his also-swollen hands up to rub his eyes. They were wet, and probably not from the faucet. "And I thought he loved me."

"We both got screwed, Riley. You got stuck with one of the worst mentors and I got stuck with one of the worst rookies. Eli Cottonwood, come on. Every time he opened his mouth, I had to keep reminding him that we already had one Undertaker and that was enough. The man had the size, but that was it."

"So how about a little more wisdom, oh Great Guru. What do I do now?" Alex did look totally shattered

"You find someone who you can be with." John replied "And believe me, you don't have to look far."

It took Alex a few minutes to realize what Morrison was saying. "You mean... you?"

"I've been watching you since the day you arrived... hell, I begged and pleaded to get you as my rookie." John scratched the back of his neck. "Do you know how hard it was not to, pardon the expression, be jealous when I heard the Miz had somehow grabbed you. But he's out of both of our lives and, well, if you're interested, I'd like to see where this goes."

"I'd like that." Alex answered "But we may find we're totally incompatible..."

"...complete opposites..."

"...we like entirely different things..."

"...nothing in common..."

"...for sure..."

"My room or yours?" John asked

"I thought you'd never ask." Alex answered "Yours."

...

The five minute car ride seemed to take ten times that. Small talk was useless, and the pheromones were off the chart. Somehow, they managed to get into John's room before kissing each other like prisoners on a conjugal. John was surprised how quickly Alex became the dominant one. If he had been with the Miz, and by now John had no reason to believe that he hadn't, then Mike would've the one to instigate everything.

He felt his shirt being unbuttoned roughly and a little gasp coming out of Alex with each piece of revealed flesh, which surprised John. It was like he'd never been seen without his shirt on in his entire life.

"You see something you like?" John smiled, tracing along his abs. Alex swallowed nervously, nodding his head.

"Now it's your turn." John removed Alex's shirt and ran his fingers along his chest. "Not bad for someone who actually took the Miz's advice. It proves you have half a brain at least." He pulled Riley down for another deep kiss. With their bodies pressed against each other, each man was aware of how badly the other one wanted this.

"Okay, Varsity-boy, how do you want to do this?" John winked seductively. "I know how Miz was probably on top, but that doesn't seem to be your style."

"How'd you guess." Alex replied, then started patting his pockets. "I don't have any lube."

"And that's why God created mouths." John answered, tugging Riley's jeans and underwear to his ankles. One quick swipe across the tip was all it took for Morrison to fall in love with the taste of him. "Lie back and have fun."

Alex knew what was going to happen, but it still took him by surprise the speed with which Morrison was able to bring him to the edge.

"John, please, I can't take much more of this... oh fuck, man, I'm..." Like he was 14 again, Riley filled Morrison's mouth within seconds. John was a bit surprised by how fast he'd come, but that didn't stop him from draining every drop from it.

"Damn Alex... you must've needed that." John wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

"More than you know." Alex gasped, "Mike wasn't exactly that big on reciprocation."

"You're telling me. He's big on the fuck 'em and forget 'em." John replied "I hope you're not like that."

Alex looked down at the salami that was showing through John's jeans. "Fuck, no. If anything, I'm better..."

While John tried to figure out what that meant, Alex went to work on John's clothes, removing the rest of them and spreading his legs open so he could slid between them. The moment his dick was captured in the soft but slightly calloused hands of his younger lover, John knew exactly what he was referring to. The touch was unlike any other he'd felt in his entire life, including Melina, a few drunken fumbles with Joe Mercury, and especially Mizanin.

John opened his eyes just in time to see Alex engulf him in the same manner. The heat of his mouth and the softness of his tongue combined to overpower his senses right from the first suck. John fought to find his Zen place before he pulled a Riley and finished before it was just beginning. Who knew when, or if, this would repeat itself.

Alex had the same ideas. "Don't worry. You saw how fast I finished." A little muffled by the cock in his mouth, but John had no problems making out the meaning.

Alex could feel John's orgasm approaching with the increased breaths, the swelling in his dick, his balls tightening, but he was still a little surprised at how fast John did come. Even as John's cock continued to shoot, Alex was pulling away.

"Sorry." John looked down. "I guess we both needed that."

"Uh-huh." Alex answered sheepishly.

Neither man spoke for several tense moments afterward; both trying to process what had just happened. Neither considered themselves the kind of guy to jump into a relationship, much less a one-night stand like this.

"I'm going to grab a shower. I'll be right back." John stated

"Cool." Alex sprawled out on the bed. "I'll be waiting."

_I hope you will._

While he was in the shower, John heard the sounds of Alex's phone ringing and by the few words he could hear over the roaring water, it wasn't someone Alex wanted to talk to.

"Better take care of this..." Even though he was still wet, John draped a towel around his waist and stepped into the main room just in time to hear: "...yeah? Well, I would rather be his whore than your boyfriend, Mike... goodbye!"

Alex turned around. "Oh shit!" He swore. "How much did you hear?"

"Enough." John replied "But hell, if you think being my whore is better than being Mizzy's boyfriend, then I'm all for it."

"You're not mad?"

"Nah. I just came out to find my shampoo." John smiled "You wanna clean up?"

"But you're not done..."

"Exactly." John laughed "I don't know what Miz was talkin' about. For a rookie, you do catch on quick."

Up next... Batista/? for firefoxsilver9... keep the suggestions coming!


	11. Welcome Back, Welcome Back, Welcome Back

"Are you sure you want to re-sign with me? Don't take this the wrong way, but things have changed quite a bit since you walked out." Erik addressed the large figure in his office.

"I've been watching the show with the wife. Neither of us have a problem with it. I will not bottom on-camera, though."

"I'll have legal type up a contract." Erik smiled "Welcome back, Dave."

Batista extended his hand and Erik shook it. "Thanks. Do you mind if I stick around and watch tonight's show?"

"No skin off my ass." Erik finished scribbling his reminder to talk to legal. "I think there are a couple guys who'll be happy to see you."

"Is Rey on RAW?" Dave asked, his eyes twinkling.

"Unfortunately, no, but he's here tonight doing some promo work. Maybe you can talk to him, if you get my meaning. RAW could use another high-flier."

Dave nodded.

"Production meeting is tomorrow at two. We'll have something for you by then."

Dave nodded a second time and left the GM's office.

...

"...as for the stuff happening on RAW, the WWE has always boasted that they've had something for everyone. I don't have a problem with it, although I don't see myself going over there any time soon." Rey stated, then repeated it in Spanish.

Dave stopped when he heard the voice. It brought back so many memories, most of them of the good variety. The sultry tones, especially when he reverted to the Spanish tongue, send a jolt through his system.

Dave waited for Rey to finish his interviews, then crept up behind him, and picked him up under the arms.

"How's my favorite Luchador?" Dave whispered

"Dave?" Rey wriggled around. "What are you doing here?"

"I just signed with Erik on RAW." Dave answered

"RAW? But why? You said if you ever came back, it'd be wherever I was." Rey pouted

"I wanted a change." Dave set him back on his feet. Rey immediately embraced the older man. "How about you?"

"I could never do that sorta stuff." Rey shrugged

"You mean you could never do that in public." Dave replied

Under his mask, Rey blushed and immediately looked around to see if anyone had heard. The only other person around was the janitor, and he had earplugs in while he was waxing the floor. "Dave, you promised you'd never tell..."

Dave shrugged. "I haven't. Not even my wife knows about us. Speaking of which, how's the family?"

"Fine." Rey replied

"I hear you're expecting a new addition." Dave continued with the small talk.

"Yeah." Rey bobbed his head "But you know what that means..."

"Uh huh." Dave agreed. He'd heard Rey complain about the lack of loving during his wife's two previous pregnancies. "Well, I gotta split. Maybe I'll see you later?"

"I'm heading out tomorrow afternoon." Rey answered

"Oh." Dave looked at the floor. "Well, if you're not doing anything tonight, I'll staying at the Four Seasons, room 369." The implication was obvious.

...

At nine o'clock that night, Rey was waiting outside room 369, trying to fight back the nervousness inside. It had been a long time since one of these clandestine meetings that he thought was only a part of his reckless past. He smoothed his fitted shirt over his chest and swallowed loudly, desperately trying to rid his mind of the images that had been flooding it since Dave first made his intentions known. Even pulling behind a strip mall for some frantic self-pleasuring hadn't been enough. When Dave had left, Rey promised that would be the end of any dalliances. He'd be the devoted father, husband, and family man that he was supposed to. But now that Batista was back, Rey craved the intimate contact once more.

The door swung open and Dave stood there, watching Rey. "Are you gonna come in or stand out there panting for the rest of the night?"

Rey took a look at Batista, running his tongue over his dry lips. Gone was the crisp tailored suit, replaced with a simple robe, tied loosely enough to expose the waistband of a pair of white boxer-briefs.

_So much for the devoted part. _Rey stepped inside. Dave closed the door with a loud 'click' and turned to stare at Rey.

"I'm glad you accepted my offer." Dave said

Rey was reading Batista's body language and it appeared that, underneath everything, he was as nervous as Rey was.

"Same as we used to?" Rey asked

"What do you mean?" Dave was confused. For this being their first time in months, Rey seemed a little... uninterested? Could he be regretting this?

"I strip, and you fuck me senseless." Rey automatically reached for his leather belt. He stopped, the belt half-open, when Dave shook his head.

"Not this time." Dave drew his robe open. "Tonight, I'm yours."

"What?" Rey asked. This was not what he'd expected.

"I've missed you for so long, I want this to be special. So tonight, whatever you want to do is fine. If you just want me to wrap my lips around you until you pump your salsa down my throat, that's okay. Or, if you want me to bend over the couch and you fill my ass, that's fine too. It's your call." Dave sighed, running his hand down his well-muscled chest until his fingers teased inside the waistband of his shorts. "Please Rey, I need this as much as you do."

"You're sayin' you'll be my bitch, bra?" Rey clarified "If I want you to give it up to me, you will?"

Dave nodded. Rey could see the sincerity in his eyes.

"Then the first thing you need to do is get me outta these clothes. If you're gonna do what I want, then we better get started." Rey stated

Dave pulled Rey's shirt over his head and ran his fingers across the many tattoos before finishing what Rey had wanted to start with his belt. With a tenderness that few would ever expect from a guy known as the WWE's 'animal', he worked the faded denim down over Rey's toned legs. Lifting first one, then the other, he worked the garment off and threw it aside; it landing in the corner with a muffled metallic jingle.

"You gonna just stare at me?" Rey asked after several minutes of nothing happening.

"No, sir!" Dave worked the briefs down over Rey's considerable erection and gasped softly before it joined the jeans somewhere in the corner.

"Better." Rey sucked in a deep breath when the cooler room air first contacted his heated flesh. "You like, amigo?"

"Damn!" Dave whistled, "I'd forgotten how hot you look naked."

"I've told you before that good things come in small packages." Rey replied "Although my package isn't so small."

Dave just stared at Rey. He was so beautiful, that even he managed to break through the Animal's tough exterior and warm his heart.

"Do you want me to suck it?" Dave's eyes were drawn to that wonderful muscle that stood proudly between the young Hispanic's legs.

"For a little bit, but I don't want you to finish me. I'm saving that for somewhere else." Rey replied

Dave nodded, carrying Rey over to the bed and laying him in the perfect position for what was to come. He kneaded his muscular legs, then skimmed his fingers up to his stomach, missing his sex for the moment, but only to get position.

Holding his hips down with his hands, Dave drew Rey's still hardening cock into his mouth and slurped noisily on it. The taste was as familiar as if it was only yesterday they'd hooked up, instead of four months ago.

Rey arched his back, driving deeper into Dave's open mouth. The animal gagged at the first unexpected thrust, but soon adjusted his position so that he could take every inch with ease. It was one of the softest blowjobs Rey had ever received, especially from Dave who usually liked it rough and hard, regardless of whether he was giving or on the receiving end of it.

"Slow down, hombre." Rey panted "I said I don't want you to finish me quite yet."

Dave looked into Rey's lust filled eyes and realized what the young man had planned for him. He slowed his mouth action to where he almost wasn't moving at all, driving Rey crazy.

"How's that?" he hummed

Rey panted wordlessly, several times involuntarily thrusting for faster stimulation.

"I thought you..." Dave asked, temporarily pulling away.

"Shut up and suck. I'll tell you when."

Dave nodded and like a good servant, returned to pleasuring Rey. Less than a minute later, Rey pulled out for good. "On your back," He gasped, his cock twitching. "Now!"

Dave obeyed. Rey spread his legs and roughly shoved two fingers inside his hole, stretching him.

"Ahhh..." Dave was a little surprised by the roughness.

"Relax, baby." Despite the physicality of the act, Rey's voice was downright tender. "I know it's been a while..."

"Yeah." Dave moaned "The wife isn't into backdoor sports at all."

"I know. Neither is mine." Rey whispered, continuing to prepare Dave. "Ready, Big Boy?"

Dave nodded, anxiously awaiting what he knew was coming. He felt Rey press against his backside, then with one smooth thrust, was inside.

"You gonna do something with that?" Dave gasped, when Rey didn't start moving right away.

"Just letting you get used to it." Rey whispered, nipping at Dave's earlobe. "Then I'm gonna fuck you until you forget your own name."

"Just do it." Dave whined "Please Rey, you don't know how badly I want this."

"I think I do." Rey reached between Dave's body and the mattress and caressed the hard flesh he found, teasing his fingers around the head, smearing the fluid that was already flowing freely across the sensitive tip, making Dave whine like a spoiled brat.

Rey continued to work the sticky fluid across and around the head of Dave's penis, bringing more whimpers, and gasps out of him, until Dave couldn't take it any more. He reared up, coming all over Rey's hand and almost bucking the Luchador to the floor. The only thing that kept him from going over was his dick being trapped in the vice grip of Dave's clenching cheeks.

"Now fuck me." Dave half-growled, half begged. "Hard." To make his point, he clenched again, almost suffocating Rey's cock in the process.

"If it's hard you want... " Rey pounded into Dave as far and as hard as he could, driving his face back into the pillows. He pulled back, almost coming out, then slammed again, once more pushing Dave forward. He kept this up until Dave was pressed so tightly into the mattress he could barely breathe.

"That's it, baby... almost there." Rey groaned "That tight ass... choking my dick... I'm gonna fill that hole of yours very soon. You want that, dontcha?"

"Oh please... " His voice was a little muffled, but the meaning was clear.

"Please what?" Rey taunted "Go on, say it..."

"Fill my hole... make me forget my name... anything!" Dave let out an ear-splitting yell when Rey hit the right spot.

"Okay baby... here we go." Rey sped up his thrusting and with either a curse in Spanish, or just gibberish, filled Dave's hole with his semen.

"Fuck..." Rey collapsed on Top of Dave, who fell onto the sticky bedsheets.

Dave dared not move, less the last hour prove to be only a dream. It was only when Rey got off and started moving around the room to gather his clothes that he rolled over. He looked in Rey's eyes. Rey returned the look, both men knowing the question on the other's lips.

"Rey, I..."

"Dave, don't." Rey tucked his shirt in and reached for his duffel bag. "Don't ruin it by asking a question you already know the answer to. I'll see you around."

"But Rey... "

The door closed before Dave could say the three words he'd always wanted to. He leaned back on the bed and covered his face with the pillow.

"I love you."

_Up Next, the GM goes apeshit! Who'll survive the carnage?_


	12. It's Time For A Change

"What the hell is going on?" Erik demanded "I take some time off and all hell breaks loose! Someone better explain this to me before I start looking for new employees!"

What Erik was referring to was that, while he was enjoying a much needed vacation, someone had overstepped their authority and reverted RAW back to the poorly-written, badly acted crap that had plagued the brand from the middle of 2008 until Erik's purchase of the show. This included the return of not only the anonymous GM, but his voice box.

"Uh... your guess is as good as mine." Alexx answered. She had not gone on vacation, so she was forced to actually work some of the matches. Two whole weeks without a single swear word, grope, or even an accidental dick shot was torture.

"Show starts in ten minutes. Does anyone else know I'm here yet?"

"No." She replied "Assuming this car is soundproof."

"It is." Erik leaned back in the plush seat of the limo. "Let them go to air and then I am gonna rip some people a new one. This is fucking RAW is HBO, not RAW is PBS!"

...

"Good evening and welcome to RAW! As you can see, our pompous brand owner is still not with us, so it is up to me, as the voice of your new GM, to make the matches..."

The annoying beep interrupted him.

"If I could have your attention, please. I have received an email from our anonymous General Manager... And I quote: since the man who was supposed to be in charge has deserted the show like a rat, it is up to me to set things right. First, it will be a U.S. title match between that paper champion Daniel Bryan and former champ the Miz with Alex Riley as guest referee." Michael Cole, despite being traded to Smackdown, was back in all his arrogance.

"Secondly, while I despise Wade Barrett..."

"Just what the blue fucking hell is going on?" Erik had heard enough and stormed out onto the stage, a live mic in his hand. "Did I hear correctly? You are booking title matches now?"

Another beep.

"Well, well, well, look who decided to finally show up."

"Cole, step away from that computer before I shove it so far up your ass you'll be shitting silicon for a week." Erik demanded

Still another beep.

"Don't do anything that you'll regret." Michael read

"I don't do regret." Erik marched around the ring and confronted Cole. "There was a reason I got rid of you." He pushed Cole from the stand. "Take this stupid gimmick to Superstars where the fan base might actually believe some of it... on second thought, who wants a free laptop?" He yanked the connections and threw it into the crowd, who cheered loudly.

"As for you..." Erik glared at Cole, still flat on his ass. "Security... get this Miz-fucking faggot off my show!"

The crowd cheered when Cole was escorted from the ringside area.

"Now then," Erik ascended to where Cole had stood only moments before. "If I could have your attention. Effective immediately, I am severing all ties with Smackdown and the rest of WWE programming. I have had just about enough of my personnel being forced into story lines that insult your intelligence, demean their talent, or diminish what I have accomplished since taking over. To wit, I request the presence of my entire roster in this ring, toute de suite."

He waited patiently for his crew to arrive. In minutes, the ring was filled with everyone from Randy Orton and the Nexus down to Santino Marella and the divas.

"As I call your name, please come to the front so I may address you personally. First, team LayCool... step forward."

Layla and Michelle, their identical women's championships slung proudly over their shoulders, face the GM.

"Okay, real talk!" Layla said

"Like, oh my God, maybe he's gonna tell us how great we are!" Michelle giggled

"That would be so cool." Layla gushed

Erik groaned. "I'm going to pull a Simon Cowell and be brutally honest. You're terrible. Neither of you can wrestle worth a damn, and you've brought as much credibility to that women's championship as Harvey Whippleman in drag. Much as stripping you of your titles would be fun, I can't do it..."

"Yay! High five!" Michelle exclaimed

"Yay!" Layla replied

Erik looked at the display in the ring. "On second thought, I can do the WWE Universe one better. You're both fired!"

"No way!" The jaws of both members of team LayCool dropped.

"And that goes for the rest of the WWE divas." Erik stated "There will be no more two-minute botch fests that pass for matches while I'm in charge. So, get the hell out of my ring, all of you."

The fans laughed, and some of them cheered, while the "women's division" vacated the ring.

"That was fun." Erik stated "Next... the tag-team champions... Slater, Gabriel, front and center."

"He won't get rid of us... we're money!" Gabriel whispered. Not quietly enough, based on what Erik said next.

"You may be, but Nexus won the titles at an event without me being consulted, then what you two did on RAW was just an embarrassment..."

"Hang on a minute!" Wade Barrett interrupted, stepping to a front and center position. "I'm in charge of Nexus and I make the rules!"

"And I'm in charge of RAW and I have the power to override you. Effective immediately, the tag titles are no longer unified. You may keep those belts until I find the pawn shop where they hocked the RAW-exclusive ones. As for you being in charge..."

"I can do whatever I want with Nexus, including taking them to Smackdown..."

"Nexus isn't going anywhere. Yet." Erik rubbed his hands together. "But I do think they need to be thinned out. This crap about McGillicuddy and Harris doesn't fly with me... they're fired, both of them."

"You can't do that!" Wade shouted

"Contradict me again and you'll be joining them in the unemployment line." Erik white-knuckle gripped the platform. Watching the latest roster cuts scuttle away was giving him a rush. "Wade, don't get too comfortable. You're the only person that the fans truly hate in Nexus, so your continued employment is tenuous at best."

Barrett glared at Erik, who was not intimidated in the least.

"In fact, I am tempted to book a no-holds barred match between you and Cena for control of the Nexus, with the added stipulation that the loser gets fired." Erik replied "If I'm reading John's body language correctly, he'd love to rip your dick off and stuff it down your throat."

The fans exploded.

"Next point... Miz? Miz? Ah there you are... good to see you survived that drubbing JoMo gave you."

"What do you want?" Miz leaned over the top rope.

"This is a new era. Y'know, out with the old and in with the new. So, this whole "money in the bank" thing comes to an end tonight. You have one week to make a decision. You either cash it in, or you forfeit it."

"Really?" Miz cackled "You think I am going to..."

"Actually, you are." Erik interrupted "You don't have a choice. Any support from that idiot Michael Cole and the former General Manager is gone. You work for me now, boy."

"What if I refuse? I can challenge for any title. Maybe I'll go to Smackdown and..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, tiger. Hold up. I wouldn't expect a graduate of the "Real World" to be a legal expert, but have you actually read the contract that's supposedly in your briefcase? While in previous years that may have been true, since the other brand also had a "Money in the Bank" main event, and it was cashed in that same night I might add, that case you hold is RAW-exclusive." Erik smiled, enjoying the look of consternation on the Miz's face. "One week."

Miz slunk back among the masses.

"How am I doing so far?" Erik asked. The crowd roared their approval.

"Last item. As you know, my partner has been the sole voice of authority in that ring. I feel it's unfair that she handle the refereeing duties all by herself. Next week, I will announce the hiring of several referees to compliment her. If there are any recently fired-divas looking for a job, I may have a position" ~cough, cough~ "for you."

The audience laughed loudly.

"That is all, Gentlemen. Let's get this show on the road..."

...

Erik had no sooner sat down at his desk then there was a bang on his doorway. It was the former unified, but now RAW-only tag team champions, led by the Nexus' leader.

"We need to talk." Wade looked down at Erik. "I don't know where you get off pulling this kind of crap, but..."

"One second." Erik pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. "Draven... Hello, Mr. Long, you got my message?"

"Yeah, playa." Teddy said from his hotel room several cities away. "But I don't see why you want to get rid of him this quickly."

"Let's just say he doesn't fit into my plans. Are you okay with giving up Cody and Drew, though? Or do I have to sweeten the pot?" Erik motioned for Wade to take a seat.

"Nah, playa. It's all good." Teddy answered "In fact, they're anxious to get started."

"Anxious?" Erik asked "They do know what they're getting into?"

"Heck yah, in fact it'll be a relief. They've been irritatin' the locker room every since they officially became a couple." Teddy said

"Just make sure they are at the show. Later Teddy."

"Hollah, hollah."

"Sorry about that... as you were complaining?"

"I run the Nexus and I make the rules... your predecessor made that quite clear." Barrett said evenly.

"Well, he's gone and, as of right now, so are you. You've been traded." Erik replied

"Fine. We'll take the tag titles and go where we're wanted..."

Erik smirked "What's this 'we'? Nexus is staying right here. You're the one traded, Wade."

Wade opened and closed his mouth several times, with not a word coming out at any point.

"No time for fish impressions, Barrett. You better change and get on a plane. Teddy expects you at the show tomorrow, no other way about it." Erik was eerily calm, despite Wade being ready to explode. "I would say I'll miss you, but I doubt it."

"You haven't heard the last of me." Barrett threatened

"Oh yes I have. Buh-bye."

Wade stormed out of the office, glaring at Heath and Justin, neither of whom had an idea how to react.

"Well, that was fun." Erik put his feet up on the desk. "Now, what was it your former leader was going to complain about?"

"Probably that he wasn't as powerful as before." Justin shrugged. Heath nodded, wordlessly agreeing with his stablemate.

"Now what about you two? If you want out, the titles aren't going with you."

"I'm fine with it." Justin answered in his sexy accent. "Hell, there are pictures out there of me that are as close to nude as legal, so what's a little more skin?"

"And how does the 'one man rock band' feel about it?" Heath did not look as sure.

"Fine I guess."

"It'll be a bit of an adjustment, but based on what that big mouth Otunga was bragging about, you two will fit in just fine. Take the rest of the night off and be ready to work next week. I'll hopefully have your new belts by then."

Heath and Justin walked to the door, still a little nervous at exactly what they were getting into.

"Think of it as pure freedom, gentlemen. You can finally be yourself." Erik saluted

Once they had left, Erik lit up a cigarette and reclined in his chair, his feet once more on the desk. "Forget the finale of M*A*S*H, next week's RAW is gonna break records." He picked up the phone, "Hello, Dixie..."

TBC

_The RAW roster effective as of the end of this chapter:_

_Batista, Dave Bourne, Evan Bryan, Daniel _

_Cena, John DiBiase, Ted Edge _

_Gabriel, Justin Hardy, Jeff Hardy, Matt _

_Hardy, Tom Kidd, Tyson Marella, Santino_

_McIntyre, Drew Mizanin, Mike Morrison, John _

_Orton, Randy Otunga, David Punk, CM _

_Rhodes, Cody Riley, Alex Ryder, Zack _

_Sheamus Slater, Heath Smith, DH _

_Triple H Young, Darren_

_Please Keep this in mind when submitting ideas. Other wrestlers may come in for one-shots, but this will be the exception, not the rule._

_Next week, TNA 'invades', as requested by fangirlxfantasies._


	13. A New Beginning, part one

"Eight months ago, I bought RAW away from Vince McMahon." Erik opened the first 'new' RAW with a prepared statement. RAW wasn't really that new. As Erik pointed out, he'd owned it for eight months, but this was the first official show under the total independence from all other WWE programming. "In that time, we've done things that no one would've suspected from a 'rasslin' show'. To be honest with you, I've still felt that my hands were tied in some aspects. It's like buying insurance. No matter how good a deal you think you're getting, there are always strings attached. It was the same for RAW. But thankfully, those strings have been cut..."

He took a breath. It had been an eventful week. The firings and trades of the week before had brought an unexpected peace to the locker room. The guys weren't afraid to let their true selves show. In some cases, that wasn't necessarily a good thing, but Erik had gotten used to avoiding couples making out in the back. Now doing that in his office was not a good idea, as Zack Ryder found out.

"Last bit of rambling, then I will get out of this ring and we can get started. I promised that I was going to hire some referees. Well, I hired three of the most beautiful women I could find. My original plan was to hire some of the divas, but some of them had problems counting to ten. I give you, the lovely Amber, Megan, and Sara Grace..."

The three ladies in question came down to the ring, to whistles and catcalls from the men, and one or two of the ladies, in the audience.

"I have also hired a special enforcer for the rare occasion that one is needed. With all due respect, I can't see one of my girls stopping a Nexus run-in. I present to you one of the toughest men I know... Cooper Lawson!"

Cooper joined his fellow officials in the ring.

"To the guys in the back. This is the new law in town. Don't..."

Erik was interrupted by some familiar music. Well, familiar might be overstating it. You'd know the music if you watched the garbage that was being propagated as wrestling from a certain company in Florida.

Erik tapped his foot. He wanted to make it seem like he was surprised at the arrival. The fact that he had called the 'certain company in Florida' and requested the appearance of a few of their employees was known to only two people.

"Can I help you?" he asked

"Yeah." AJ Styles sneered "I was told that there was a new man in the wrestling biz. I just came up here to see if the rumors were true."

"And you brought the callbacks from the newest season of the Jersey Shore to do what exactly? Show off their new tan lines?" Erik motioned for his referees to vacate the ring, all except for Cooper.

Alex Shelley and Chris Sabin shook their heads.

"We're here because we're tired of being gimmicked by some old guys who can't see the story for their egos." Sabin shouted "Up here might be the only place the Murder City Machine Guns can go back to what brought them to the dance."

"So you want jobs, that's it?" Erik smiled "Well, I think we can arrange something. Tonight we will have a Cameron Cage match. On one side it will be the three of you and on the other... all three members of the Hardy Boyz! If you win, you'll have a job with me. If you lose, you'll be stripped bare and handcuffed to the cage for all to have a look at."

Sabin and Shelley hesitated a bit when the stipulation was made known, but AJ soon put that to rest.

"You're on!"

"Cool. It looks like we have a main event, folks!" Erik announced "As they used to say on the American Gladiators, let the games begin!"

...

Back in his office, Erik sent for and soon received the MCMG.

"I figure this conversation is best held away from the usual commotion of the program." He was in his usual position: feet up on the desk, and an expensive-looking cigar in his hand. "You may wonder why AJ isn't joining us..."

"Thought had crossed my mind." Alex replied

"Take this for what it's worth, but I could really use a couple guys like you to beef up my tag team division." Erik put his feet back on the floor. "Take a seat and let's talk business."

"Y'know we're under contract to Dixie, right?" Chris added

"I am quite aware of your obligations to her." Erik pointed to a pile of papers to one side. "I had my attorneys request thE documentation and the only thing it says is that you can't work for WWE. Third-party bookings are still permitted."

"But aren't you...?"

Erik shook his head, cutting Alex off. "My company is officially named the Risque Association of Wrestling; RAW for short. Everyone assumes we're WWE, but we're not. I am prepared to offer you both a two-year guaranteed deal, if you're interested."

Alex and Chris looked at each other.

"Styles is a one-shot, regardless. After tonight, he's going back to join whoever THEY are. Think it over. The only problem that we may run into is your name. TNA owns the rights to both Murder City and Motor City Machine Guns."

"A name is a name, so what?" Chris answered, reading his partner's mind word for word. "I think I speak for Alex when I say we're in."

"I'll get my creative staff working on a new name for you as well as some sort of back story." Erik resumed his feet on the desk pose.

"This is legit, right?" Alex asked

"I'll have your new contracts on my desk by the time your match is finished."

Alex and Chris rose and left the office.

"You sure about this?" Alex whispered "Shouldn't we at least talk to Dixie first?"

"Why? You know how much respect Bischoff has for tag-team wrestling." Chris answered "Those titles mean less than snake shit. As soon as he can find some way to bring it into his stable of sellouts, then we're back to jobbing for the X-division. Don't you trust me?"

"Low blow, partner." Alex tried to look hurt.

"Speaking of blows, we got time. Wanna find a room and celebrate?" Chris winked

"Do you have to ask?" Alex replied

It didn't take long to find an unused storage room in the arena and even less time for Chris to have Alex totally naked.

"Someone's in a rush." Alex chuckled

"Look who's talking." Chris replied, flicking Alex's erection with his index finger. "The way you were looking at me in Draven's office, I thought you were gonna take me right there."

"I wish I could've, but..." The blowjob Chris started giving silenced him.

"But what?" Chris stopped long enough to look at his partner.

"Nothing." Alex answered

"Something is on your mind. What is it?" Chris stood and stared him down.

"Are you sure we're doing the right thing? I mean, TNA has always done us right."

Chris almost laughed. "Since when do you second-guess yourself? More important, why are you doing it in the middle of one of my patented ball-draining blowjobs? Talk about killing the mood."

"I'm sorry, man, but..."

"Look, if it's rippin' you apart that much, we'll tell Draven to forget it." Chris stared right into Alex's eyes and Shelley didn't doubt the sincerity of his words. "Seriously though, I've watched the show and I'd rather be here. We can ditch the entire PG-crap and go back to the way we were... wouldn't you rather skull-fuck your way to the top rather than be fucked over on the way down?"

"Yeah, I guess." His hesitation was still evident in Shelley's words.

"I'm not gonna do this by myself. We're a team and we're gonna stay that way, whether it's here, TNA, ROH, or wherever. I'd like to at least give this a try, but if you're not up for it, we're outta here." Chris stated.

"This is too fuckin' complicated." Alex muttered

"Then let's simplfy things." Chris answered

"How do you mean?"

"Easy. You stop thinking about work and start thinking about how good I can make you feel." Chris looked down at Alex's penis, still a little shiny from the saliva. "Because I hate wasting good blowjobs."

Alex smiled. "As you were, bro."

...

Erik was wandering the halls, looking for his newest acquisitions. He repeatedly looked at his watch. The match prior was just finishing up and the Hardy trio were already at the gorilla position, as was AJ.

He happened to be a few doors away when Alex and Chris snuck out of the storage room.

"Not the best first impression, boys." He called over. "Usually the talent waits until after their matches to do each other."

Alex and Chris looked at each other, then back to the boss.

"I'll let it slide this time, but don't make a habit of it. This is still a wrestling company." Erik actually smiled.

"Thank-you, sir."

Erik rolled his eyes. He hated being called sir. "Everyone else is waiting for you."

"Let's go, partner."

"Before you go, one word of advice. Zip up." Erik scratched his temple.

Alex and Chris looked at each other, a little confused by the counsel.

"Shelley, your fly is open." Draven rolled his eyes.

Alex looked down. "Oops." He giggled

"Yeah, oops is right." Chris went to help Alex, but Shelley swatted his hands away. "I can do that myself."

"Find me after the match." Erik said "Legal faxed me your deals."

"Already... that was fast." Alex swallowed nervously.

"That's the way I roll... hey Cena, you got a minute?" Erik left the team to their own selves.

Alex still looked real nervous.

"C'mon, we gotta match." Chris dragged his partner toward the Gorilla position.

...

"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is the main event. A Cameron Cage Match scheduled for one fall..."

Despite his ability to multitask, Erik had still neglected to hire a permanent ring announcer. He'd coaxed Alexx, his head referee, into doing the job for tonight with promises of extra pay, someone would be hired shortly, and that the next time he went on vacation, she was coming with.

"...introducing first, at a combined weight of six hundred thirty-five pounds... the TNA World Television champion AJ Styles and the World Tag-Team Champions Alex Shelley and Chris Sabin, the Motor City Machine Guns... Team TNA!"

It was a lame opening, but it wouldn't be needed beyond this one time.

"And their opponents..."

The crowd silenced their booing for a moment.

"At a combined weight of seven hundred eight pounds... the Kings of Extreme, the Heroes of High-flying, the Titans of the Top Rope, Matt, Jeff, and Tom... the Hardy Boyz!"

AJ, Alex, and Chris studied their opponents as they entered the ring. They'd worked with Jeff in the past, but had only rarely watched Matt on television and two-thirds of the team didn't even know there was a third Hardy.

"This'll be fun." Alex whispered

"Don't worry." Chris replied, pulling on the ropes to loosen up. "Just follow my lead."

"And what would that be?" Alex asked

Chris looked over his shoulder at AJ. "Let Styles get the shit kicked out of him while we watch."

Alex nodded. "I like that idea."

"Thought so. The sooner we finish here, the quicker we can take care of other business." Chris cupped himself so the meaning would not be lost.

The rules of the Cameron Cage fight were simple. It was a six-man tag match, but held inside the hell in a cell cage. Partners were required to tag in and out, but that was it.

With recently hired referee Sara Grace Calaway maintaining law and order inside the ring (what little there was), the match began with Matt squaring off against Alex Shelley. They jawed at each other for few seconds, then Shelley slapped Matt right across the face.

"Do it again. I dare you." Matt seemed to be smiling, then he turned to the side, giving his opponent an unobstructed shot at the unslapped side of his face. Alex looked at his partners, shrugged, then did it again.

Matt laughed audibly this time. "Now you've done it." He took two steps backward and tagged in Tom, seething.

Alex saw the look in the eldest Hardy brother and scurried back to his corner, reluctantly tagging AJ into the match.

AJ was cocky, arrogant, and way too over-confident while strolling up to jaw-jack with Tom. He got one syllable out of his mouth and that was "gahhh!" when Tom kicked him in the stomach.

Tom bounced off the ropes and elbow-dropped the kneeling Styles, dropping him onto his stomach with a loud grunt.

"Jeffro?" He shouted

"Yeah, big brother?"

"It's your turn." Tom quickly dragged AJ into the Hardys' corner and tagged little brother in. Jeff quickly stomped AJ's ribs several times, the jumped to the top and corkscrewed on top of him. A quick cover, and an even quicker kick out.

"You think we should do something?" Alex asked Chris.

"Nah. If AJ wants us to help, he'll get his ass over here and tag one of us in." Chris was enjoying watching AJ get beat. Of all the people in TNA, there was probably no one Sabin would prefer to travel less with than AJ, except maybe Eric Bischoff.

"But what if he can't?" Alex asked

"That matters why?" Chris smiled

"Good point." Alex answered, trying to keep up the appearance that both he and his partner wanted to get into the match when in truth, the sooner the match was over, the sooner they could have some real fun.

The Hardys were giving Styles a good triple thrashing. First Jeff, then Matt again, then finally Tom all took turns executing the Swanton, Twist of Fate, and Insanity on TNA's titleholder. After using his own finisher, Tom looked around.

"Boring!" he faked a yawn, and jumped out of the ring. Crawling under the apron, he emerged with a table which he slid into the ring. He winked at his partners, then quickly assembled it.

Slamming AJ lightly onto the table, he looked around. Tom had never been much of a high-flier, or a risk-taker, and this was no exception. He tagged Jeff back in. Jeff went for another Swanton, hoping to go through both Styles and the table, but AJ rolled out of the way at the last minute and Jeff crashed through only the table.

"Ouch!" Matt winced "I guess he wasn't as out of it as you thought."

"I must be losing my touch." Tom covered his eyes and shook his head. "Damn!"

With all the speed of an eighty-year-old with arthritis, AJ crawled over to his corner. Neither of the Guns wanted in, but when AJ slapped Sabin across the forearm, the referee called it a tag.

"Be right back." Chris joked

"I'll be waiting." Alex answered, noticing that the two of them were getting a few cheers from the crowd.

Chris was true to his word. He stayed the legal man only long enough to execute the Cradleshock on Jeff, then quickly tagged Styles back in. The look was surprise was obvious on AJ's face, but as any true champion, quickly returned to continue the assault on Jeff.

"I missed you." Alex whispered

"I know you did." Chris stated "I'm sorry I took so long."

The pair laughed amongst each other and watched AJ suffer. All in all, it was a good night to be a Gun.

TBC


	14. A New Beginning, part two

The nice things about R.A.W., inc were, in no particular order, there was nothing off-limits, if the people involved were willing to do it. The people who had problems with it had all been traded, bought out, or otherwise removed from the active roster. The match in the ring exemplified that. It was a brutal cage match between three of TNA's 'champions' and the Hardy brothers and four of the six combatants had already spilled blood. The only two not wearing the crimson mask were Alex Shelley and Tom Hardy, only because they hadn't been in the match for much more than two of the first seventeen-plus minutes.

At the moment, Jeff was giving the business to Chris Sabin and seemed to be enjoying it.

"Why is it that I always need a cold shower after one of our matches?" Matt asked, watching Jeff grope Chris under the pretense of bodyslamming him to the matt.

"Because you're a perv?" Tom asked

Matt looked at his older brother and smiled. "I knew there was a reason... tag Jeffro!"

"In a minute, Matty." Jeff pursed his lips. "I'm havin' fun."

"If you want to suck him off, that's fine. Just get on with it. We got a match to win!" Tom shouted

"Hey!" Alex shouted, having listened to every word said. "No one sucks off my Chris but me!"

He rushed into the ring and kicked Jeff right in the face, splitting open his upper lip.

"What the fuck? Leave my Jeffy's face alone!" Tom joined the fray. AJ and Matt quickly entered and all six began brawling. After a few attempts at restoring order, Sara just shrugged and let them go at it.

The two teams paired off rather quickly and it seemed that the trio of Hardys had the advantage. Until Jeff whipped Chris into the corner, forgetting that Tom had mounted Alex in that exact same spot. Sabin's head crashed into Tom's lower back and he toppled over the ropes and onto the floor, allowing the Guns to double-team Jeff.

With a three-on-two in the ring and Tom temporarily incapacitated on the floor, the TNA 'invaders' had an advantage for several minutes.

"Matty, Tommy... help me!" Jeff shouted

"I'm a little busy myself." Matt was swapping punches with AJ.

"Tommy?" Jeff called out. Since going airborne, there had been nothing out of him. "Help... eep!"

The Guns hit their Thunder Express combination on a helpless Jeff, then Chris covered him. Somehow he kicked out after two, but that didn't help much. What Matt and Jeff needed was a quick recovery by their partner, but that didn't seem like it was going to happen any time soon.

"Bullet point, partner?" Chris called an audible.

"Go for it, bro. Let's get this shit done and done." Alex replied, taking a few steps back into the middle of the ring to set up while Chris tied Jeff to the tree of woe.

Matt couldn't do anything as AJ had just reversed his Twist of Fate attempt into the Styles Clash and was in the midst of being placed into the figure-four leglock. Matt writhed in pain on the canvas, trying to block it out. He did not want to be the person known for tapping out to TNA.

"Whaddaya say, Matt?" Sara crouched down beside him. "Wanna call it a night?"

"Fuck that." Matt groaned "I will not die."

"Oh really?" AJ seemed to be enjoying things. "How about now?" He tightened the hold, bringing tears to Matt's eyes.

"No!" He screamed. _Bro, where the hell are you?_

Tom hated aerial wrestling of any sort, which given his bloodline further showcased the differences between himself and Matt and Jeff. He really hated it after flying out of the ring and smashing his skull against the base of the cage and it pretty much made his blood boil that it was his own teammate that caused it.

"Typical Jeff behavior." He muttered, wiping his forehead to both clear the sweat and check for blood. "He fucks up and then expects big brother to come to his aid."

He grabbed a chair from ringside and climbed back into the ring, first using the chair to leg drop AJ across the chest and break the figure four, then nailing both Guns in the head with it. Then, to the crowd's shock, turned and knocked Jeff loopy as well.

"Now we're even." He spat, before throwing AJ out of the ring. "Have fun you two."

Leaving Matt to ponder just what Tom meant, since Jeff was having a difficult enough time just seeing straight (One thing about Hardys, they can swing chairs with the best of them.), Tom whipped AJ into the side of the cage with enough force to pop the screen loose. He followed Styles out of the cage, and up the ramp, brawling all the way backstage.

It was down to two-on-two in the ring and a singles' match backstage, although Tom seemed to have something more important on his mind. He didn't even pay attention when he heard the announcement that the Hardys had won.

"Looks like my brothers got the job done after all."

AJ's cocky grin was soon shattered by Tom's fist.

"Hey, the match is..."

"This ain't TNA." Tom growled "We police ourselves." He threw Styles into one of the locker rooms and relished the sound his head made when it smacked off the floor.

"So?" AJ didn't seem to notice that he wasn't on friendly ground any longer.

"It's your funeral. Suit yourself." Tom shrugged "But it's time for a little fun...

"Oh yeah?" AJ gloated "What's to stop me from kicking your ass back down to that ring and letting the word see how small your dick really is?"

"Other than the fact I don't have a small dick, this." Tom answered, reaching into one of the lockers.

AJ's eyes widened when he saw what Tom had in mind.

"My brothers enjoy both dom and sub stuff, but when you deal with me, you get used." Tom had a riding crop in his hand. "Don't worry, I won't hurt you bad enough to bleed. I wouldn't want to have to explain to Zack Ryder why I'm borrowing his sex toys."

"I don't... I mean, I'm not... I've never..." AJ sputtered

"I know all about you," Tom flexed the leather tool between his hands. "and I thought it would be kinda fun to break you. Believe me, I will break you."

...

"Ready for some fun?" Matt asked

"Mm-hmm." Jeff looked around, still rubbing the bump on his head. "Where's Tommy?"

"You can bitch at him later. Right now, we got a couple others matters to deal with." Matt dangled two sets of handcuffs in front of the stunned Guns' faces.

"You sure?" Jeff looked thoughtful. "I mean, they're from TNA... who knows where they've been?"

"I'm sure they're clean." Matt answered "You are, right?"

Alex and Chris looked at each other. Out of his peripheral gaze, Alex noticed the hole in the cage that AJ had gone through and there was nothing between the two of them and freedom.

"We ain't sluts like you two." Alex replied. Chris mouthed "I say we run for it."

"It's even money, let's take them out here." Alex read his partner's lips, but so did Matt.

"Nice try." He said, knocking Alex on his butt with a clothesline, knocking enough sense out of him to give Matt just enough time to snap the cuffs on his one wrist and snap the other around one of the ring ropes.

"Nexties..." Jeff giggled, watching Shelley's face go from brave to dread in less than three seconds.

"Sorry, bro, but..." Sabin took off through the hole in the cage and was halfway up the ramp, thinking that he might make it out with his dignity (not to mention his asshole) intact, when he was confronted by Tom.

"And just where do you think you're going?" He asked, brandishing what looked like one of Finlay's old shillelagh's, but was in fact the riding crop he'd just finished getting up close and personal with AJ styles with.

"I'm uh... oh fuck me..."

"You're half right, but I'm worn out from taking care of AJ. That last part I'm going to let my brothers handle." He advanced toward Chris, backpedalling him toward the cage.

Once Sabin felt the cold steel against his back, he knew he was, pardon the expression, fucked. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Tom stood nose-to-nose with him, breathing right into his face.

"Y'know," he said, his voice so low that Chris had to strain just to hear him over the crowd noise. "My brothers have had a thing for you and Alex for a long time and I'd like nothing more than to give them an early Christmas present, but..."

"There's always a 'but'." Chris thought

"I'm sick of being the odd one out. How about we come to an arrangement?"

"Wh-what kind of arrangement?" Chris stammered

"I'll let you escape being publicly humiliated, but you're mine for an hour." Tom brushed the sticky crop along the side of Chris' face.

"Uh, okay, I guess."

"If you're done over there, the fans are getting a little impatient." Matt yelled "And so am I!"

Tom momentarily turned his attention to the ring. Alex was trying to escape his fate, but Jeff was not having any of that. Chris took this as his one chance. He rammed Tom's head into the steel and ran backstage, this time successfully.

"What the... bro, you okay?" After seeing what had happened, Matt was at his brother's side in two seconds.

"I'm fine, I think." Again, Tom wiped his hand across his forehead and again it came away clean. _No blood... that's good. _

"You want me to go get him?" Matt offered to take up the chase.

"Nah." Tom dismissed him. "I can fight my own battles. You two have your own fun."

Matt nodded, jumping back into the ring to help his brother finish stripping Alex. Tom ran backstage, in hot pursuit.

Chris ran blindly through the backstage area, almost running into several different superstars hoping to find a way to his car before becoming another statistic in a Hardy brother's column. He could see the door to the parking lot and for a brief moment could smell freedom. Until he ran into Cooper coming back from catering and changed his plans.

"What the fuck?" Cooper looked at the slices of pizza that were scattered on the concrete. "Do you know who I had to kill to get some of this?"

"Sorry, man. I'll buy you some later, but I gotta go." Chris started to look around for another door. Cooper was blocking his way out and judging by his reaction to the tomato sauce that had spattered on his shirt, he was not going to let him pass very easily.

"Cooper, hold him!" Chris heard the familiar voice and knew that he was now officially screwed.

"With pleasure." Cooper grabbed Chris in a full nelson. Tom arrived within seconds.

"Perfect." He cracked his knuckles loudly. "I'll take it from here."

A wink, and he started dragging Sabin back to one of the locker rooms. Cooper cleared his throat loudly. Tom chuckled.

"If there's anything left once I'm finished, I'll let you know."

"I was going to remind you that you still owe me for the beer." Cooper replied "But thanks anyway."

"Oh... sorry if I misread..."

"Nah, man." Cooper smirked "I'm bangin' the boss."

Tom's and Chris's jaws dropped.

"How else do ya think I got this job?" Cooper danced off. "Later, boys... I think Miz just cashed in his MITB."

If Chris had been smart, he would've used the distraction caused by Cooper's announcement to escape, but he was just as floored as Tom. Were they back in TNA, no one in their right mind would get involved in a relationship like that and if they did, they sure as fuck wouldn't tell anyone.

Tom threw Chris through the nearest doorway. He landed on his ass in the centre of the room.

"There were some interesting rumors goin' 'round that Erik was lookin' at signin' some guys from TNA." Leaning against the jamb, he regarded Chris with an expression that was part smirk, part amazement.

Chris shrugged.

"I just finished with your boy Styles and he said that he was only comin' in for tonight, so either the rumor mill is clogged or you and Alex are becoming part of our merry little circus." Tom stepped inside and closed the door.

"Erik seems to want us. Surprise you?" Chris answered

"Not really. Draven's got an eye for two things... talents and hot lookin' dudes... at least that's the other rumor floating around."

Chris thought back to what Cooper had said moments earlier and nodded.

"Anyway, where were we?" Tom squatted in front of Chris and looked him over. "Oh yeah, you're mine for another" he looked at his watch, "fifty-one minutes and twelve seconds." He chuckled softly and ran his hand along Sabin's exposed calf. Chris initally flinched at the contact, but soon found the touch rather enticing. There was one small problem...

"Dude, I can't." Chris crab-walked into a corner.

"You can't or you won't?" Tom was not used to having his advances refused. He looked genuinely hurt.

"I can't." Chris wailed "I got someone and I can't fuck him over like this!"

"So you and Shelley are partners outside of the ring as well as inside?" Tom stood up to take some of the pressure off his quads.

Chris stared at the floor between his legs. That was more than enough confirmation for Tom.

"Well, I guess that means there's only one thing to do."

"What's that?" Definitely scared of what was gonna happen, Chris cowered in the corner.

"It's time to play knight in shining armor." Tom stepped aside to allow Chris an escape. "Just tell them you hit me."

"What?"

"Tell them you hit me."

Chris shook his head in confusion.

"I'm not that dumb. I know what being in love is all about, now go before I change my mind."

When Chris finally convinced himself that this was not a trick, he ran back to the ring as fast as he could.

"What better way to get Jeff back for that match." Tom sat down and quickly stripped out of his ring gear. "Bleah, I need a shower to get all these niceties off of me, then someone's ass is mine."

Tom stepped into the shower and laughed loudly, the peals wafting into the empty locker room. Yes, someone's ass was gonna be his. But whose?

_Up next... A title controversy and a surprise episode!_


	15. Technicalities

Technicalities...

"Here is your winner and NEW World Heavyweight Champion... The Miz!"

The crowd became very vocal about their thoughts concerning this development. As per the owner's decree, Miz had used almost every second given to him before cashing in his MITB opportunity and, like all the MITB winners before him, had scored the victory.

The only good thing that could be said was his celebration was very short.

"Well, well, well. At least someone around here listens to me." Erik appeared at the stage entrance, his enforcer and another suited man to each side. "However, I have been informed by my legal counsel that there may be an irregularity. Mr. Lawson, please fetch me the Money In The Bank Briefcase."

Cooper nodded and sprinted down to ringside.

"I did what you told me to do and I won the title. Fair and square." Mike protested, keeping his attention focused on Cooper in case he tried to get physical.

"Don't blame me, Miz." Erik answered "I am just as confused as you are. That is why I have brought my attorney to explain everything." He handed the mic over.

"Mr. Mizanin. My office received some footage from a televised show that you may find interesting. Would everyone please watch it."

The verboten-tron ran some footage from the pre-Draven RAW.

"And please hold there. Do you see that, Mr. Mizanin?"

"See what?" Miz asked

"Could you please rewind that about ten seconds and play it at half-speed?"

Mike watched, unsure of what was going to happen, but not having a real good feeling about it anyway.

"There. You will all notice that the briefcase has come open and, what do we have here? It is empty." The lawyer sounded like he was trying to teach a five year old quantum physics.

"Now, correct me if I'm wrong, and since this whole guaranteed title opportunity is before my time," Erik addressed both the Miz and his own legal aide, "was there not supposed to be a binding contract inside?"

"That was just a gimmick." Mike shouted "Everyone knows that."

"I didn't." Erik replied "Did you?" Erik's lawyer shook his head.

"So, unless we find some sort of legal documentation giving you a title shot when Mr. Lawson opens the case, I will be forced to make a tough decision. Cooper, please."

With a little dramatic flair, Cooper unsnapped the catches and shook the contents of the case into the open. That is, he would have if there had been anything inside. The case was as empty as church on Super Bowl Sunday.

"As I thought." Erik stated. "Ladies and gentlemen, I hereby nullify the prior match and announce that Randy Orton is still your World Heavyweight Champion."

"That's bullshit!" Miz shouted "You can't..."

"I have also been advised by my counsel that there will be an investigation into whether this constitutes fraud by Mr. Mizanin." Erik interjected "For now, however, I will settle for you returning that ill-gotten title belt to me so I may return it to the rightful champion."

"I won this title fairly!" Miz whined "I'll be fucked if I'm gonna give it back based on some flimsy video footage."

"Michael, don't make me come down there and do something extremely violent. It will be one mistake you'll live to regret, assuming you live that long."

Mike clutched the title to his chest protectively.

"Okay, have it your way." Erik advanced toward the ring. "I haven't had a good fight since I was in high school."

"If that's the way you want it." Miz tossed the title belt aside. "I'll fight anyone 'coz I'm the Miz and I'm..."

"...an asshole." Edge appeared on the screen. "I don't know if I should let our owner, and the guy who signs your paychecks, do what I know these fans want, or if I should come down there and do it myself. I am on a crusade against all things stupid and you claiming that title is probably the dumbest thing we got."

"That's fine with me." Erik interjected "Me beating up my employees is probably not the best image to portray. Hell, why don't we give the fans what they want and make it an anything-goes match. Miz, if via some fluke you win, you will get a legal title shot and Edge, when you win, you can release all that sexual frustration you have upon him."

"Fine." Miz shouted

Edge nodded and smiled before his face left the screen.

"Now there's just one other matter... that belt. Since you're gonna have a match later, I can't bust you up too bad, can I? Cooper, get the belt."

With a nod, and an evil gleam in his eye, Cooper entered the ring. One look and Mike turned tail and ran, leaving the title in the middle of the ring.

"Excellent."

...

Opening montage of Cody Rhodes

"For a change, I will not be showing you how to make yourself look and feel good, but how to do the same for someone else." Cody's sneer seemed to be everywhere. "Drew, come on in."

Drew stepped into camera frame, but looked a little shell-shocked. He had been having second thoughts about coming over to RAW since moments after he'd agreed to it. But Cody was his friend, his confidante, and most importantly his lover. If Coddles wanted this, then he was going to put his best face forward. Or other parts of his body, as he was soon to find out.

"If you want to maintain that 'dashing' look, then you must maintain the proper grooming techniques. Today I will show you how the most intimate grooming should be done."

Drew went weak in the knees. Now he knew what Cody had planned. He was not into the man-scaping that many of his coworkers was, simply because he could be barely be bothered keeping the parts of himself that were seen on-camera clean.

"Cody, I hope you know what yer doin'." Drew's accent cracked.

"Watch and learn. The first step is to apply enough shaving cream to thoroughly cover the area to be cleaned."" Cody quickly yanked Drew's trunks down to mid-thigh and liberally covered his dick and balls with the white substance, making it look like a really strange sundae with Drew's dick head as the cherry.

"Next, use short, quick strokes to remove the unwanted hair."

"If you screw this up..." Drew really hated the idea of a straight razor that close to the happy family.

"Relax, I've done this once or twice." Cody smiled boyishly.

"Once or twice... that's encouraging." His brogue was doing a good job of concealing just how nervous Drew really was.

It seemed to take forever. Drew tuned out Cody while he talking through the shaving ritual, thinking about how he was going to get back at Rhodes for this.

"And there you have it... clean, smooth, and dashingly handsome." Cody toweled off the traces of shave cream that remained. Drew looked down, afraid of what he'd find, but everything was intact. In fact, it looked a lot bigger without all the curly hair that usually surrounded it. "Not only can you keep yourself dashing, but that special person in your life as well."

Cody's theme played them off the air.

"Why dintya tell me what ye had planned before?" Drew asked, the moments the 'all-clear' was announced.

"Because I wanted to surprise you." Cody was a little uneased by Drew's tone. "I didn't cut ya, did I?"

"No, but ya could've. Then what?"

"You know how hard it is to take you seriously when your pants are down?" Cody giggled

"That is totally irrelevant right now."

"Kid's got a point, though." Cena walked by, munching an apple. "It is kinda _hard_ to talk to anyone when they look like that."

"My locker room. Five minutes, if you want our relationship to continue." Drew growled, tugging his trunks back up to a more respectable level before storming away.

"What's got up his ass?" John asked

"Nothing recently. Maybe that's the problem?" Cody sighed "I really thought he'd enjoy that."

"Whatever it is, I think you should fix it before your personal life starts fucking up your professional life." John bounced the partially-eaten apple of his biceps and walked away.

Cody watched John's back disappear before he realized that for once, Cena might be right. He had been a little preoccupied with his career, and come to think of it, he hadn't even asked Drew what he thought before going to Teddy Long with the request to send the two of them to RAW. He just assumed that it was okay with McIntyre, and maybe that was the problem. He'd been assuming a whole lot recently.

Cody knocked before entering Drew's locker room. Even though they were sort of together, Drew was still shy about some things and preferred the privacy of his own changing room whenever possible.

"You in there, Drewsie?"

Something that sounded like either 'come in' or 'what do you want', Cody couldn't tell through the door, said that at least the room wasn't empty. Taking a huge breath, he went inside, bolting the door behind him.

"Drew, I..."

"Shut up." Drew was staring at his reflection in a full-length mirror. He was completely naked, and seemed to be focusing on the grooming he'd just received. "I went along with us tagging together, even though we both agreed that we wouldn't mix the business with our personal lives. I agreed to come with you to RAW, even though you only told me about it after the fact, but I draw the line at getting my cock and balls shaved on television. Explain to me why you thought that would be a good idea under any circumstances?"

Cody stared at the floor.

"I dunno. You always complained about not getting enough air time when we were on Smackdown!" Cody's lip trembled. "I thought that meant..."

Shaking his head back and forth, Drew continued to stare at his reflection. "Now I know why no one in the locker room bothered staying with you longer than two weeks."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"If you don't know by now, then why should I... Cody, you're a control freak." Drew fingered his hair, roughing it up into a mock-fauxhawk, then turning to once more look at himself.

"Am not!" Cody shouted

"Are too!" Drew retorted

"Am not!"

"You can't even have a conversation without it turning into a one-up competition. As for our lovemaking, it's always when you want it, where you want it, and how you want it. You don't want a boyfriend, you want a blow-up doll."

"That's a lie and you know it." Cody's lip continued to shake.

"Oh yeah? When was the last time you let me take any sort of lead?" Drew turned, his arms now crossed over his chest, and stared Cody down.

"Well..." Cody racked his brain for the answer, but to his embarrassment, none was coming to him fast enough.

"Exactly." Drew took this small triumph as a hope that Cody would see the light and maybe change his ways. "Unless you want that episode to be the official end of our relationship, you better change your ways."

Cody felt totally worthless, but he knew that Drew was right about everything. "How do we... I mean, I fix this?"

"The first thing you do is learn to relax. You can't control everything."

"And the second?"

"Get those little trunks off and lie down on the floor," Drew smirked "and let me show you how much fun giving up control can be."

Cody smiled, and lay down on the cold floor. He shivered when his bottom first touched it, but the sensation soon wore off. "You're in control, Drew... you want 'em off, you take 'em off."

Drew slithered on top of Cody, kissing his forehead, then working his way down his face, across his cheeks, nibbling at the full lips, even licking the tip of his nose. Cody giggled at the feeling of Drew's tongue. Giggling aside, Drew kissed his way down Cody's neck and chest, leaving a trail of wet lip marks in his wake.

"Hmmm..." Cody arched his back while Drew continued to kiss and suck his way down Cody's chest. Cena he wasn't, but his abs were still the sexiest part of his small frame; at least that's what Drew thought.

Drew pushed Cody's lower body back down to the hard concrete when he tried to arch into the kisses. "No trying to take control."

Cody whined quietly. This turned Drew on considerably and he cupped Cody's jiggly, even though his original plans were to torment Rhodes with pleasure. Again, Cody pumped his hips into Drew's touch; surprisingly soft considering what people saw in the ring.

"Give it to me Drewsie, please?" Cody bit down on his lip to stop another slutty moan from escaping. "I promise..."

"You promise what?" Drew leaned in to lick the tip of Cody's nose.

"That I'll never embarrass you again?" Cody pleaded

"We'll see." Drew squeezed Cody's groin, happy with the way he was making his former tag-team partner feel. With each touch, young Rhodes' crotch swelled until there was a noticeable gap between the waistband of his trunks and his tanned skin. Drew slid his long fingers into the space, running them across shaved skin, much like his own, until they brushed against flesh. Hot, smooth, throbbing flesh that desperately needed some attention.

"It feels like my little Coddles wants to give up control." Drew purred, his fingers loosely curling around Cody.

"Don't... call... me... Coddles." Cody gasped with each feather-like touch. "You... know... I... hate... that..."

"About as much as you're enjoying this Coddles." A few more soft strokes and Cody was trembling all over. If Rhodes had wanted to protest the name, the pleasure causing his body to shake made it all but impossible. One tug from Drew and Cody was dangerously close to losing what little control remained.

"I can't hold on." Cody looked at Drew, his eyes clouded with lust.

"I know." Drew chuckled, yanking Cody's trunks down to his knees. "But you have to."

"Why?" Cody groaned

"Because I know how long it takes you to recharge." Drew blew a hot breath across the head of Cody's penis. "And I am not a patient man, as you know."

Cody tried to focus on unsexy thoughts as best he could, a job made all the more difficult when Drew started sucking him. Another loud groaned escaped his lips when the over sensitized head scraped across Drew's upper teeth.

Drew hummed softly; he was tormenting Cody and he knew it. He loved it, and knew that when he did finally allow Cody to finish, it would make all the other times that he'd come seem like nothing.

"Fuck..." Cody arched, driving himself to the hilt into Drew's mouth. The slight prick of stubble brushed against Drew's upper lip. "Imma..."

"Not yet you're not." Drew pulled away, leaving Cody with a disappointed look on his face. "You are not in control, remember that... and no finishing yourself off either." Drew slapped Cody's hands away when he saw them moving toward his dick.

"You're torturing me." Cody whined

"So?" Drew replied "You're enjoying it."

"I am not. Please Drew, just get me off!" Cody pouted. Under normal circumstances, Drew couldn't resist that look, but this wasn't one of those.

"When I'm good and ready." Drew stood and quickly stripped bare.

"Are you going to...?" Cody's mouth went dry.

Drew spit into his hand and pumped his shaft several times. "Yes, Cody I am. It's time for me to give you back a modicum of the pleasure you've given me. Just relax and know that I am not going to hurt you."

Cody smiled. "I trust you."

Drew nodded and lifted the young man's legs to his shoulders. Hoping that he had lubed up enough so he wouldn't hurt his young lover too much, Drew entered Cody with one swift thrust.

"Relax." He repeated when he saw the grimace of pain on Cody's face. "The pain is temporary."

Cody gulped loudly and nodded, trying to relax his body against the strange feelings coming from his ass.

Once Drew was sure that Cody had adjusted to being fucked, he began to move. He started with slow, even strokes to pace himself, but as soon as he felt Cody begin to respond to his movements, he sped up.

Cody looked at the Scotsman through half-opened eyes. Just seeing him positioned the way he was, being joined in the most intimate of ways, sent enough pleasure through his body to make him forget about how uncomfortable being fucked really was.

Drew adjusted his position; from his experiences being the fuckee, he knew exactly what made him feel really good and reangled his strokes to hit Cody's pleasure center. Given how turned on Rhodes was already, Drew figured it wouldn't take too many direct hits before Cody was covered in his own release. He was right.

"Fuck... Drewsie, oh yessss..." Cody bit down on his lip, and frantically reached for his cock. He stroked it rapidly in time to Drew's thrusts.

"Come with me, Codes." Drew grunted, driving deeper as his own orgasm started to take control.

"You first." Cody gasped, arching his entire lower body as the ultimate wave of pleasure overrode him.

"No, you first." Drew slammed directly against Cody's prostate, sending him over the edge. Thick spurts of white fluid erupted from him, splattering him in a mosaic of ecstasy. Only when Cody had finished did he open his eyes and survey the damage. He was covered in juice; streaks of it had coated his abs, his chest, filled his navel, and even splattered both his pecs.

"Fuck..." He gasped again, leaning back. He was only vaguely aware of the grunts coming from Drew as he finished by spilling his load deep inside.

"Ya see, Cody," Drew collapsed beside him, nuzzling against his neck. "I tole ya so."

Cody looked over at Drew, his eyes still half-closed with passion. "You can tell me so anytime you want."

"Don't you forget it."

Their post-sex reverie was soon disrupted by a banging on their door.

"Anyone in there?" It was Tom Hardy and he sounded more pissed off than usual.

"Yeah." Cody shouted, wincing at how his voice cracked. "I'm trying to get some sleep."

"Oh." A muffled bang, sounding like someone had kicked the door, came from the other side, and then there was silence.

"What's up his ass? He's been like that ever since that match with Styles, Sabin and Shelley." Drew furrowed his eyebrows.

"I don't know and I don't care." Cody snuggled against Drew and closed his eyes. Exhaustion quickly overtook him and, within minutes, he was asleep.

"At least tonight wasn't a total loss." Drew closed his eyes and also fell asleep.

Zack Ryder and Santino found them like that the next morning, but after talking it over, they agreed that it was about time the two of them got their shit together and decided that the best thing was to leave them right where they were. Smart move, I'd say.

_Up next, something a little more appropriate to the Holidays... keep those suggestions coming!_


	16. Deck the Halls

Deck the Halls...

"Last show before the roster gets their two week break for the holidays." Erik was enjoying Chinese takeout with his staff just prior to the start of RAW's XXXmas show.

"It's about time." Alexx stuffed an egg roll into her mouth and chewed loudly. "Some of the guys look worn out."

"Not my fault they don't know how to par...ty." Erik's voice trailed away when a face from the past walked by the door.

"See a ghost?" Cooper snagged a chicken ball from Erik's plate; not something he would do under normal circumstances, but the distraction was just what he needed.

Erik bolted from his chair and looked out into the hall. His brow creased, in what some of the crew called the I-want line; he looked back into the corridor, then returned to the banquet.

"I know I'm only the owner and shit, but what the fuck is Michael Cole doing here? I got rid of him."

The referees looked at each other, unsure which of them should get the honor of replying.

"You hadn't heard?" After several moments of uncomfortable silence, Sara finally spoke. "He and Miz are a couple now. And you've always said that family is more than welcome backstage."

Erik gagged. "There goes my appetite."

"Cool." Cooper dove in, demolishing what Erik had left untouched. "Shit balls, these are good."

"Enjoy. Just don't spoil yourself. The Christmas party is still tonight."

...

"'Tis the season to be horny... fa la la la la la la la la... fuck we now our gay coworkers fa la la la la la la la la..."

It was the mother of all Christmas bashes, being held in the same arena in which the RAW live show had just concluded. Once the production monkeys had cleared the miles of cables and other shit; food and booze had been brought down and transformed the ringside area into a huge buffet. Erik had left the ring up just in case and some of the guys were taking advantage of it.

The High Crusade were tuning up on stage, but even that wasn't enough to stop a certain member of the roster from butchering Christmas carols.

"Beer?" Jeff asked. He hadn't let go of Tom's arm since they'd arrived at the party.

"Beer is good." Tom replied "But too much of it makes Tommy very nervous."

"But I likes beer." Jeff shrugged "Beer makes me feel all tingly inside."

"Beer also makes you an easy target." Already Tom could sense that something was in the air. He whirled and glared at David Otunga, who was already half in the bag.

"A-list, stay the hell away from my little brother." Tom shouted, loud enough for most of the roster to hear.

"Fuck you." Otunga answered "I'm just lookin'."

"Just as long as that's all you're doing." Tom pointed in his direction to emphasize his point.

"The last guy who pushed his luck with my family got more than they ever expected."

...

Just prior to midnight, Erik and his staff took the stage to address the revelers.

"I hate to put a downer on things, but it is customary for the guy who's paying for the whole fuckin' show to get to say a few words..."

The idle chatter ceased, replaced by a few groans from some of the wise-asses in the crowd.

"Don't worry, I won't bore you any more than I normally do. On behalf of my staff, I'd like to thank you for making my first months as owner fairly pain-free..."

"You know it." Zack Ryder interrupted, raising something fruity in something that resembled a toast.

"Just a couple reminders before I let the fireworks begin anew. The first is that those lame-o's from Smackdown need this arena later today, so we have to be packed up and outta here in six hours, give or take."

"Damn!" Cena groaned. Off to one side, Justin Gabriel and Heath Slater also looked disappointed.

"Most importantly, just because you have two weeks off, that doesn't mean you can spend it in alcohol-induced comas. If you have been pounding them back, and judging by some of the rosy cheeks I see you have, I have set up an account with one of the local cab companies. If you are one of those that doesn't want to leave your rental at the arena, Phil will drive anyone who needs it back to their hotel." Erik took a deep breath. "Have fun and I will see you all when we get back into it in the new year."

While he was speaking, his pocket started vibrating in a not-entirely-unpleasant manner.

"And it looks like my work is never complete." He mumbled. The number on the display was unfamiliar, but not unexpected. He was forever getting calls from guys either tired of working the Indy scene and making less than minimum wage or guys who couldn't handle the WWE or TNA schedules.

Erik returned to his office and listened to the message. It was one of the latter types.

"Yet another disgruntled WWE employee." He sighed, quickly firing off an email to his legal department, requesting a copy of the documents he was going to need to see before making any sort of decision.

...

The party started to wind down around one in the morning, and the parade of plastered wrestlers continued for several hours after that, keeping both the cab company and Phil busy.

By five, the only people left in the arena were the Hardys, David Otunga, and Alex Shelley and Chris Sabin, who were supervising the cleanup.

"I gotta potty." Jeff had been rather clingy since the liquor hit him pretty hard at about three.

"Then go." Matt shrugged "You're a big boy now."

Jeff stuck out his tongue.

"I thought you would've gone home with your date." Tom was surprised that Matt had let Phil drive Randy back to the hotel. Rumors that Phil had the hots for Orton had been spreading for several weeks now.

"If Phil tried anything, Orton would've sent him back here in pieces." Matt shrugged

"Guys, I gots ta go." Jeff was hopping from one foot to the other.

Tom rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll take you."

"Oh-kay." Jeff grabbed his brother's arm and dragged him along.

"I am not going into the bathroom with you. I'll wait here for you." There were even limits to what Tom, the loving brother he was, would do for Jeff.

"Okies." Jeff kicked the door open and ran inside. Tom leaned against the wall, checking his watch. He'd enjoyed the party, but he wasn't as young as he used to be and he wanted nothing more than to grab his bros, get back to their hotel, and crash. Unfortunately, the only crashing involved a steel chair across his back. He crumpled to the ground, unconscious. The chair slammed to the floor beside his head, followed by the sounds of surprise from within the bathroom.

Jeff was just about finished washing up after relieving himself. Staring at his hands, rather than his reflection, would turn out to be the start of something Jeff would call 'badness'. When he first sensed that he wasn't alone in the mens' room, he thought it was Tommy coming in to play a joke on him, but suddenly having a hand across his mouth soon dampened that idea.

"Mmmffff..." Jeff was pulled into an upright position, and that's when he first saw who it was.

"Shhh..." Otunga had followed both Tom and Jeff to the bathroom. His alcohol-clouded judgment told him that this might be his best, and only, chance to get what he wanted. What he wanted was Jeff. "Don't even think about screaming unless you want some of what I already gave your brother."

Jeff's eyes bulged, and for a moment he thought about calling out, but David's other arm crossing his throat soon stopped that.

"I've wanted you since the first time I saw you." David breathed heavily into Jeff's ear. The warmth of the booze wafting across Jeff's mouth and nose was enough to make him nauseous. "And now I am going to have you."

The hand that was across his throat went lower and grabbed Jeff's groin. Jeff struggled to break free from Otunga's grip, but all that accomplished was to make him angry.

"Stop moving unless you want me to really hurt you." David proved his point by squeezing Jeff's privates hard enough to make him yelp and his eyes start to water. "Do you understand?"

Jeff shook his head frantically.

"Good." David looked at their reflections in the mirror and laughed. "Don't we make a pretty couple?"

...

"Has Erik talked to you about our new gimmick?" Alex asked his partner.

"Not much. All I know is that we get to swear again." Chris answered

"Cool." Alex replied "Honestly, I can't wait to hear how he screwed Dixie out of our services."

"Me neither. The guy strikes me as a... what the fuck?"

The Guns had come across Tom lying in the hallway.

"Dude probably just passed out. Get Phil and let him deal with this. My bed is calling to me." Alex answered

Chris had knelt beside Tom, and had quickly made a different diagnosis, thanks to the cut on his head and the dented chair tossed carelessly aside.

"Passed out, my ass." Chris answered

"Dude, let's..." Alex was ready to repeat his earlier request to leave, when he heard something else. "What the fuck was that?"

"What the fuck was what?" Chris hadn't heard anything.

"Shut up and listen." Both men quieted down, and craned their ears to hear whatever it was Alex had thought he'd heard.

"I don't hear..." Something that sounded like a yelp, followed by the sounds of something breaking reached both sets of ears.

"This way." Leaving the body of Tom where it was, both Alex and Chris investigated the source of the nearby noise: the bathroom. Without even hesitating to think the situation through, they burst in on David and Jeff's fun. Well, Jeff wasn't exactly having fun.

"What the hell?" David was momentarily stunned. "Get the fuck outta here!"

"Y'know, it looks to me like what we have here is someone who turned his big head off and is thinking with the little one." Chris smiled

"I said get the fuck outta here!" Otunga repeated "If you two know what is good for you..."

Chris laughed loudly. "That's the worst attempt at intimidation since Eric Bischoff formed Immortal. In case you hadn't noticed, there are two of us, and only one of you."

"Back off or Jeff gets hurt." David dragged him upright, his arm pressing against Jeff's Adam's apple.

"You got it all wrong." Alex was already starting to form a plan. "If you don't back off, you'll be the one getting hurt."

David sneered.

"It's not just us. You got two Hardy brothers who'd do who the fuck knows what to your sorry ass if it gets out that you were trying to take certain advantages with one of their kin. You know how protective southerners can be." Chris added "Think it over."

David did think it over, and that was just the distraction Jeff needed. He stomped on his foot, and bit the hand that was across his mouth. It was enough to get free and he ran toward freedom.

"You little..." David was not happy that his fun had been ruined. Unfortunately, his pursuit was stopped by Chris and Alex, who put themselves between Otunga and the retreating Hardy.

"Take care of Tom." Chris said "We'll deal with this."

"Tommers!" Jeff ran from the bathroom.

"I know that you might've thought this would be a good idea. How, I don't have a damn clue, but my partner and I happen to think that the only thing worse than attempted rape is rape itself." Alex cracked his knuckles. "However, that doesn't apply to rapists. What do you think, partner... should we give him a taste of his own medicine?"

Chris looked from Alex to David, then back to his tag partner. "Sure. After all, what good is being tag-team champions if the only tag teaming we get to do is in the ring?"

"Exactly." Both Guns looked at Otunga, evil gleams in their eyes and cheesy smiles to follow.

"I don't know what you guys think you're gonna do, but it ain't happenin'?" David growled, then tried to break past both of them.

"You hardly seem in the position to say what is and what's isn't." Chris grabbed David around the waist, and dragged him to the floor. "Hold his arms, Alex."

"Me? Why do you get to have all the fun?" Shelley complained

"Once I'm done with him, you can have a turn." Chris replied, ripping at Otunga's pants. "Unless you wanna blow him while I tear his ass to shreds... make him forget how much of a bitch we're making out of him."

"I wouldn't touch a sick perv like him if his dick was made of diamonds. I'll just take seconds." Alex knelt on David's wrists, painfully pinning them to the tiled floor.

"Please, guys, just me go and I promise I'll leave Jeff alone." David was not above a little begging if it would save him a beating.

"Too late." Sabin tore Otunga's pants and briefs off him and yanked his legs open. "You got this coming to ya."

Two quick movements and a thrust later, David screamed loud enough for all those that remained in the arena to hear.

"Sounds like someone's getting lucky." Phil said, walking Matt outside to throw him into a cab. All three Hardys had arrived at the same time, so the Viper in the parking lot told Princess Straightedge that Tom, and presumably Jeff, hadn't left yet.

Like many other Superstars, seeing Tom pull into the arena on a daily basis in his Viper brought pangs of jealousy in Phil's mind. He silently prayed that Tom and Jeff would both be too drunk to drive and that maybe, just maybe, he'd be able to take them home in Tom's car.

Matt mumbled something totally incomprehensible.

"Definitely." Phil agreed, dropping Matt's drunk ass across the backseat of the cab. Once the driver knew exactly where to take him, Phil stepped back and watched the car leave. The snow was starting to fall rather heavily. Hopefully it wouldn't get too bad before everyone was gone.

"Who does that leave?" Phil counted on his hand. "Guns, two Hardys, and Otunga... damn, Erik better have something good in my bonus." He went back inside to wait.

...

In the bathroom, Sabin and Shelley were having their way with Otunga. After his first screams, Alex tore a piece off David's shirt and stuffed it in his mouth to stifle the noise. He did not want any interruption before they were finished, and judging by the sounds coming from his partner, that wouldn't be long.

"Don't even think about getting back at Jeff or you may find yourself in the morgue." Alex glared at David, and he was not kidding. "In fact, the best thing for you to do would be to go to the boss and explain to him that you need some time off. And by some time off, I mean at least a year. Got me, fuckwad?"

Otunga was half-dizzied by the pain to figure out how to reply.

"Some acknowledgment that you understand would be nice... like a thumbs-up?"

"You're still on his hands, bro." Chris answered

"Oh... then blink if you got it."

David blinked.

"Excellent." Alex leaned back, shifting his weight just enough to squash David's fingers a little more. "How you doing down there, partner?"

"Almost finished." His breath was becoming ragged. "You still want a turn?"

Alex looked down at David, and the thought of fucking him turned his stomach. "Nah, I ain't wasting my time with this asshole. Maybe I'll grab a rat on the way back to the hotel."

"Suit yourself." Grunting loudly, Chris finished. He quickly tucked himself away. "Wait until we leave and then you can come out."

"Merry Christmas." Alex sang

Tom and Jeff were still in the corridor. Tom was nursing an ice pack and Jeff still looked a little shell-shocked. He shrank behind Tom when he first saw Sabin, thinking it might've been Otunga coming back for more.

"He won't bother you again." Chris said "We saw to that."

"I owe ya." Tom moaned, moving the bag of ice. There was going to be a nice bump in the morning, that was for certain.

"Just get us drunk some night and we'll call it even. It royally sucked that we had to be sober just so we could play for the party..."

"... how Punk does it, I dunno."

Tom nodded. "Set a date... ungh... fuckin' Otunga..."

"You gettin' home alright. No offense, but I don't think either of you should be driving."

"Don't worry, I'll get them home." Phil magically appeared.

_Fucker just wants to drive my car. _

"You fuck up my car and you're dead, Brooks." Tom fumbled in his pockets for the keys.

"Don't worry about me." Phil gladly accepted the keys. "If you boys need a ride, we can probably fit five."

"Works for us." Alex shrugged

"Whatever." Chris agreed

Coats and boots were quickly gathered and put on, and somehow all five bodies crammed into Tom's Viper. To Tom's relief all five were staying at the same hotel. He had nightmares of Phil driving all over town just to drop the Guns off, then crashing into a snowbank on the way back.

Eventually, they drove off into the snow, leaving one person in the arena. Otunga had watched them leave, the fury in his heart matched only by the numbing pain in his ass.

"You'll pay for that, motherfuckers. I swear to God, you will all pay!"

TBC

_Up next, Hardycest for Nooks! (And a new member of R.A.W.!)  
_


	17. The Warriors Way or the Highway

2011... A R.A.W. Odyssey

"If you're not gonna tell me what the problem is, then how the fuck am I, the middle and most responsible brother, gonna be able to help you?" Matt glared at Tom, who rolled his eyes at his sibling.

"'Coz maybe I don't want you to help?" Tom shrugged, uncharacteristically throwing his gear into his locker.

"Yeah, right." Matt leaned against one of the unused lockers and folded his arms. "Y'know I ain't gonna leave you alone until you tell me why you've been such a grouchy-pants since TNA showed up."

"Whatever... it's not like I need this gig anyway." Tom stormed out of the locker room, still in his street clothes.

"I think he just needs to get laid." Zack Ryder had overheard their conversation.

"You think everyone needs to get laid." Matt retorted

"You know it." Zack skipped away, leaving Matt to stew in his own mind. _For once, maybe Ryder is right? Nah..._

...

There really was no real explanation, at least in his mind, for why Kaval had even called Erik after requesting his release from WWE. He tried to justify it as he still liked the business, then tried to tell himself he needed the money, but sitting in Erik's office, watching his possible new boss look over some documents, he felt even smaller than usual.

"Well, I've read this contract and there's good news and bad news..."

_Maybe he can't get around the no-compete clause and I can get the fuck out of here..._

"The good news is someone forgot to put a no-compete clause in it. The bad news is, if I put you out there right away, it might look like some sort of collusion on our part." Erik set the papers on his desk.

"Collusion?" Kaval asked

"Yeah... I mean, I saw a lot of contracts when I took over, and every one of them has the standard ninety-day no compete clause. Some lawyers may argue it's a little too coincidental that, for the first time, it's omitted for someone who then asks for their release, gets it, and then shows up working for 'the competition' (finger quotes appropriately used)... ya know what I mean?" Erik looked at Kaval. "But, I am a risk-taker. If you want to work for me, I'll sign you... but I need to know one thing."

"What's that?" Kaval squirmed uncomfortably.

"What's the real reason you wanted your release?"

...

"Has anyone seen Tom?" Matt was asking crew, co-workers, anyone he could find, but no one could tell him where his brother was hiding out. He and Tom had a tag-match against Sabin and Shelley that night. With Jeff taking a little extra time off after being almost raped by David Otunga at the Christmas party, Tom was booked to fill Jeff's obligations until his return. But now, he was also missing.

"Dude, I seen him." Alex Shelley, of all people, had the answer.

"Where?"

"He's in the ring, busting on some jobber."

"Thanks." Matt breathed a sigh of relief.

"No prob... you and Tom wanna join me 'n Chris for a Halo 3 tournament later? We're getting sick o' beatin' on each other."

"Normally I'd say yes, but Tom's been... well ya know..." Matt shrugged

"We know. The offer stands. Chris 'n I usually get some beer and some fine tobacco products of our choosing and have a lot of fun. Anyway, we'll see you two in the ring."

Matt nodded. Maybe a night of drinking and recreational drugs would loosen Tom up. Either way, it couldn't hurt to ask, right?

...

Kaval shifted in his chair.

"If you really don't want to tell me, that's fine, but the one thing that would really piss me off is going out on a limb to sign you, then two months later, you pull this same shit with me. I haven't been around the business that long, but usually people ask for their release for one of three reasons... money, position, or they can't take the ribbing... which is it?"

"It's sorta... well, it's kinda embarrassing to be honest."

Erik stood and closed his office door. "Is that better?"

Kaval took a deep breath. "I kept boning up during my matches with Dolph Ziggler. Everyone kept asking me when I was gonna ask him out."

"And that's not the way you hang... or... okay, it's none of my business. I think I might be able to help you out with that, though."

"How?" Kaval asked "You're not gonna..."

"No." Erik answered "I may be dating one of my referees, but other than that, the company pier is a place I don't fish. Go talk to Daniel Bryan. He had the same problem you did."

"Oh-kay... and he'll help how?"

"I honestly don't know, but his last few matches, there has been nothing protruding unnecessarily." Erik answered "Maybe it's a Zen thing. It wouldn't hurt, right?"

Kaval nodded.

"You'll start officially next week. As soon as get your new contract from my lawyer, I'll let you know." Erik stood "Welcome aboard."

"Thank-you." Kaval shook his hand and went to seek out Bryan.

"Boning up." Erik dropped back into his leather chair. "Half the guys here have that problem... that's why we're on HBO."

...

"Tom... Tommy... TOM-MY!" Matt shouted, running down the aisle to the ring.

Tom flipped his sweaty hair out of his face. "Can't you see I'm busy?"

"Whatever." Matt climbed into the ring. "We need to talk."

"Okay, talk." Tom replied, while hitting his sparring partner with the Insanity.

"Not here." Matt answered stubbornly.

"Why not?" Tom replied, just as resolutely.

"Because I said so and I think your tackling dummy could use a break." Matt grabbed Tom by the back of his shirt and dragged him from the ring.

"Well, start talking then." Tom pulled his shirt from Matt's grasp relatively easily. "What's on your mind?"

"It's not what's on my mind that's bothering me." Matt was determined not to let this go before he got some answers. "I really hate to agree with Jeffro when he uses terms like 'grouchy-pants', but this time he's right."

"Why do you even wanna go there? It's not like this is gonna affect you." Tom tried pushing past Matt, but got shoved backwards for it.

"Really? You think this isn't gonna affect me? Fuck, we're teaming together for the next two weeks and if I have to carry your ass every night, it won't be fun for either of us." Matt replied

"Who said this is fun for me now?" Tom retorted "Who says I want anything to do with this anymore? Who says..."

"If this is another hissy-fit over not getting title shots, then either go to Erik and get out or grow the fuck up." Matt barked "There are other people in this company who've been pushed down the ladder. You ain't the only one..."

"Title shots?" Tom shook his head from side to side. "You think that's what this is about? Fuck, bro, you're even more clueless that I originally thought."

"If that ain't it, then what?" Matt lowered his voice.

Tom looked around. "Not here." He rolled under the ring.

"Melodramatic family members." Matt muttered

Tom was sitting with his back against the center ring support, waiting.

"Start talking, bro, and this better be good." Matt stretched out, resting against one of the far posts.

"Dude, it's real simple..."

...

"Have you seen Daniel Bryan anywhere?" Kaval was having as much luck finding DB as Matt was trying to get to the bottom of his brother's mood.

"He's having a nap in the trainer's room." Finally someone had some useful information. "Or doing some meditation shit..."

"I'll find him." Kaval sprinted away before other awkward questions could be asked. It didn't take long to find RAW's self-professed nerd.

"You do this before every match?" Kaval asked

"Ever since I found these stretches, I been a lot more relaxed before my matches." Daniel answered "But that's just me... did you need the trainer for something?"

Kaval stared at the floor, then took a deep breath and in one drawn-out breath, explained why he had sought Bryan's counsel. He was expecting to be either laughed at, or in some way ribbed, but to his surprise, Daniel did neither.

"I see why Erik sent you to me."

"So, what do we do about it?" Kaval asked

"Get on the table." Daniel ordered

"Wait a minute... if you're gonna do what I think you are, then I'm outta here." Kaval backed away.

"Kid, what I am gonna do is show you a few relaxation techniques. The last thing on my mind is taking advantage of you. Puh-lease. If you don't want my help, fine, but do NOT fuckin' insult my intelligence."

"Sorry." Kaval felt one foot tall.

"After I show you how to relax, if you want me to help you rub one out, that's another story. Take off your shirt and get on the table." Daniel gestured to the trainer's table.

Tossing his button down aside, Kaval lay on his back.

"Scoot up a little bit." Applying a bit of oil to his fingertips, Daniel motioned for him to move. "And roll over."

...

"...well, now that I've spilled my guts to you, are you just gonna sit there and look stupid or what?" Tom grumbled

"I'm just tryin' to digest this and figure out how I'm gonna help ya." Matt shimmied over to sit beside his brother.

"I don't think you can. I mean, this is serious." Tom answered

"I'm sure I can come up with something. I mean, I could set you up Zack Ryder, if it's just a matter of not getting any sex..." Matt smiled, hoping his attempt at making a joke wouldn't get him a punch in the jaw. Tom was not the most understanding when it came to humor, especially jokes made at his expense.

"You weren't listening, were you? If it was just that, I'd be ripping your pants off right now." Tom smirked

"I heard you, but how do you know it isn't until you've tried..." Matt shrugged "I mean, c'mon bro, think about it."

"I have thought about it and that's part of the problem. I don't know what I want, but I sure as shit want more than a one-night stand." Tom folded his arms. "Why are you even suggesting this... don't you have someone?"

"Bro, this is the Viper we're talking about." Matt answered, "He's fucked more guys since the Christmas party than I have in the last year. He's one to talk. That said bro, I don't want this getting out, okay?"

Without waiting for an answer, Matt planted a soft kiss on Tom's lips. Initially hesitant, Tom soon gave in and kissed back.

_Where would I begin?_

_..._

There was something in Daniel Bryan's touch that both relaxed and excited Kaval. Most of the massage was exactly what Erik promised, but there was one place that drove him nuts whenever Bryan kneaded it. Right at the base of his skull was a bundle of nerves that set his senses on fire whenever it was touched.

"I think I see your problem." Bryan stood back to allow Kaval to sit up once the massage was complete.

"Oh."

_Damn, his voice is sexy. It would make Tom Jones jealous... _Bryan quickly blinked to get his mind back to less inappropriate thoughts.

"I noticed you have an oversensitive spot right here." Daniel pressed against it. Kaval shivered involuntarily. "That is what's causing your body to react the way it does. All you need to do is tell the guys you're working against to lay off extended tie-ups and you'll be fine. Unless you want that to happen again."

Kaval did not understand what Bryan meant until he looked down and saw that he'd boned up again.

"Shit!" he gasped, trying to tuck it away enough.

Daniel chuckled and Kaval, now totally embarrassed, blushed.

"Don't worry about it right now." Daniel clapped him on the back. "It's mind over matter."

"Yeah." But Kaval's mind was going in the completely opposite direction. "But what if your mind is telling you something else?"

"You want a psych consult as well?" Bryan stifled a laugh. "In that case, I would listen to your mind because usually it knows what to do."

Kaval looked at his shoes for a moment. "Can I get that handjob you promised earlier?"

...

_This is not what I need, really._

The words went through Tom's mind, but got lost somewhere between there and his mouth, which was being stuffed with Matt's rather persistent tongue. There was something about it that was a little arousing in its forbiddenness, but it was that same arousal that was giving rise to second thoughts. Since RAW going X-rated, they'd played the roles of incestuous brothers on-air, but that was as far as it had gone.

Any final nagging thoughts were pushed to the back of his brain when Matt began tugging his sweat-stained shirt over his head. The thoughts that entered his brain involved doing the same to Matt. Soon, both shirts were off.

"So far, so good." Matt crooned

"But this is where things get tricky." Tom smirked

"Tricky? What do you... meep?" Matt was unprepared for Tom's lunge. He ended up flat on his back, with his borther's hands roaming over every inch of available flesh.

"Tricky because once you get my juices flowing, you can't stop them!" Tom growled, baring his teeth like a wolf. "Are you sure you want this, because God help us both, I don't think I'll be able to stop once I get started!"

"Tommy, I went toe-to-toe with Goldberg back in the day. Gimme everything you got!"

"Everything?" Tom smirked again, Matt melting at the sight, and grabbed Matt's trunks. In his own lust Matt raised his hips and waited. As long as there was no blood, he was quite happy to let his old brother take over. In fact, he'd counted on it.

"Wow..." Tom exhaled, his breath wafting over Matt's cock, lying contentedly against his thigh.

"Mmm..." Matt twitched.

Tom slid down Matt's body, gently scraping his fingernails against the soft skin, creating pink lines that soon faded.

"Now I know why you've never done any of the hardcore wrestling." Tom flicked his tongue out, the tip brushing against the spot where the head of Matt's dick met the shaft. "There'd be a riot if the audience saw this."

"It's not that... Oh shit!" Matt sucked in his own breath to stop himself from screaming when Tom's tongue traced the thick vein running up the back of him.

"You like that?"

"Oh, no... I really hated it. Don't you dare do that again!" Obviously he was being sarcastic.

"You can't tell me what to do!" Tom pouted, the repeated the move, but going from tip to base this time. He did it again and again. With each pass, Matt got harder until his penis was standing upright and the precum was flowing freely.

"Now there's something you don't see every day." Tom murmured before sucking lightly on the head, greedily tasting the small pool of fluid that had gathered.

"Fuck..." Matt groaned loudly, then stuck his wrist into his mouth. He'd temporarily forgotten that they were under the ring and anyone could hear them if they were too loud.

"Pushy, pushy." Tom released Matt's dick from his mouth and jacked it while casting a disapproving glance at him. "This is supposed to be all about me, remember?"

"Oh yeah." Matt arched into the loving touches. "Well you better hurry because it might become about my dick exploding if you do much more of that."

"You want prepping or can I just shove it in?" Tom tugged at the button snap on his jeans.

"Prepping would be nice, but... yeow!"

Tom just used the question as a distraction. While Matt was talking, he pushed his dick into Matt. He'd been thoughtful enough to lube it with his spit, but even so, it hurt.

"Just relax, little brother." Tom cooed "It's all good."

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one who's being split apart by a two-by-four." Matt gritted his teeth. This was his first time. In the grand picture, he'd never bottomed for anyone before, much less a man, much less a man with a dick big enough and hard enough that it felt like it was tickling his liver. "Shit!"

"Did I hurt you too badly?" Tom asked, slowing the pace at which he was fucking.

"No... do that again." Tom had found his sweet spot. "Yessss!"

Again Matt bit down on his arm to prevent his screams from being heard. Tom continued to thrust into Matt, making sure to hit his prostate as often as possible.

"Tommers, how are you doing?" Matt moaned

"Gonna cum." Tom panted, the sweat flying from his hair. "You?"

"Can we cum together?" He begged

"Yeah." Tom thrust harder, his breath panting. "Now?"

"Yes, Tommy, shoot in me!" Matt clenched his walls around Tom, while frantically stroking himself off.

The tightness of Matt was unbearable. It felt like the cum was being squeezed from his dick by a pair of vice grips. Biting down on his own hand, Tom came harder than he had since his teenage years.

Matt held off until he felt the fluid shooting through his body and then he let his own load fly. It left his dick and splattered against the wooden underside of the ring.

"Wow!" Matt sighed, looking at the mess while waiting for his heart rate and respiration to return to normal.

"Wow is right!" Tom panted, leaning against the ring support in the same position Matt has first found him.

"So... do you still want to go to Smackdown?"

"Ask me after I recover." Tom sighed "Because right now, I don't want to be any place else but here."

...

Kaval naked was an interesting sight. He was pretty much completely hairless. Whether that was by grooming or by heredity, DB didn't know and he could've cared less. What mattered to him was that Kaval was naked, hard, and wanted relief from Daniel.

"Are you sure? It's not too late to say no." Forcing Kaval to do something against his will was the last thing on Bryan's mind. After the way Erik had responded when news of what Otunga had tried to do to Jeff, it was perfectly clear that taking liberties with one's coworkers was not allowed under any circumstances.

Kaval just stared at Bryan. "Second thoughts are not the Warrior's way."

Bryan smiled; those were just the words he'd been waiting to hear. He dipped in his fingers in the massage oils and slicked himself anew. Looking at Kaval's face, eyes closed and mouth a line of anticipation and possibly nerves, he nodded and for the first time, touched him.

Kaval hissed slightly... the oil was a little slimy, but once his entire member was coated, it didn't feel too alien.

Bryan used the same technique as earlier, but the results were the same. Kaval felt every muscle in his cock relax, but without losing his erection. Kaval opened his mouth to ask what his secret was, but the words got lost in a moan when Daniel did the same thing to his sack with his left hand that he was doing to his penis with the right.

"Fuck..." Kaval arched into each touch. Every gentle stroke, every soft squeeze sent fire through his over-sensitized flesh.

"Relaxed yet?" Daniel chuckled

"Gimme a minute and you'll see just how relaxed I am." Kaval pumped his hips into Daniel fist, silently encouraging him to go faster.

The closer his orgasm was to hitting, the faster he wanted Bryan to go and Daniel was more than happy to accommodate the younger rookie. While the oil added to the experience, it lessened the contact between hand and dick.

"Faster... oh God, faster." Kaval sighed

Inside, Daniel was laughing. This was the exact reaction he usually got and no matter how many times he did it, no matter how straight his partner claimed to be, he never got tired of reducing another man to jello with a few simple touches.

"Faster, please!" Kaval pleaded, beginning to thrust again.

Daniel increased the frequency of his strokes. The sensations were overloading Kaval; his breathing rapid, but irregular, his pale skin covered in drops of sweat, his reddened cock looking like a blood-engorged sausage. With his right ring finger, Daniel pressed on the plexus of nerves that ran under Kaval's balls and that was it.

An animalistic scream left Kaval's lips, his cum left his dick moments later. DB watched stream after stream of thick, white goo shoot into the air. After the sixth or seventh, Kaval's eruptions finally slowed down and the ninth shot, the last, barely hit his navel.

Bryan looked at Kaval, then at his hand covered with a mixture of oil and seminal fluid. "You never really answered me."

"Huh?" Kaval looked back, glassy-eyed.

"I asked you if you were relaxed yet."

Before Kaval could answer, a bang on the door made them both jump. It was Cooper.

"If you two are finally finished in there, the Boss wants everyone in catering in ten minutes. Show meeting." It seemed like he was trying not to laugh.

Kaval and Bryan looked at each other and laughed.

"I hope I don't tense up again." Kaval said "You might need to relax me again."

"You can count on it." DB answered "Or, you might just have to teach me the Warrior's Way."

_Up next, Adam/Randy/Jeff for I love Edge Jeff and RKO! Plz keep those ideas coming before I am forced to use Zack Ryder!_


	18. Methods of Persuasion

"Jeffro, you have to get out of bed and come to the arena. The boss is expecting you back for tonight's show." Matt grabbed the heavy quilt and started pulling it off the bed.

"But I don't wanna. " Jeff whined and a tug-of-war ensued over the blanket.

"I don't care if you wanna or not, you're coming with me." Matt persisted "It's my ass that's in a sling if you no-show... AGAIN!"

Jeff continued to sulk, eventually just letting go of the blanket and sending Matt flying.

"That's it." Rubbing his sore backside, Matt jumped on the bed. "Now listen to me, little brother. We've all been very patient with you because of what happened. Erik has told me that Otunga has been dealt with and he won't be able to hurt you ever again."

"That's what he says." Jeff shimmied up to lean against the headboard and folded his arms. "He almost got me once... how does he know he won't try again? How does anyone know?"

"Because he's in jail right now for trying the same shit with one of the rookies on Smackdown. It's a good thing Teddy Long was warned beforehand. He would've been in jail sooner if you'd testified against him."

"Nuh-uh." Jeff clutched a pillow to his chest. "I woulda had to tell..."

"One way or another, you are making RAW tonight, even if you have to show up in your footie pajamas. How do you think that's gonna go over? Half the guys already think of you as jailbait and we won't even talk about what the other half think. Now come on!"

"Nuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu." Jeff curled up tighter. "I stays here."

Matt growled and was coming very close to throttling some sense into his little brother when someone knocked on the door.

"I'll get that. You better be dressed by the time I get back."

Jeff threw a pillow at Matt when he turned to leave the bedroom. Luckily it missed.

"Who is it?" Matt looked through the peephole, but whoever was there was out of sight.

"Housekeeping... you want pillow fluffed?"

Matt breathed a sigh of relief. The voice was unmistakeable and belonged to one of the few people who might be able to convince Jeff that cooping himself up in the hotel was not the best idea in the cosmos. But why was he here? Matt opened the door as far as the safety chain would allow.

"What are you doing here, Copeland?" He demanded

"Tom sent us. He figured that Jeff might need some convincing to get ready to come to the arena."

"Us?" Matt asked

"You don't think Dr. Copeland works alone, do you? I brought nurse Orton with me."

"We agreed I was the doctor." A well-known tattooed arm came out of nowhere to smack Adam on the back of the head.

"Yeah, but I knocked on the door so there!" Adam retaliated and it soon turned into a slapfest in the hall.

"Get in here before we can add this to the list of hotels we've been kicked out of." Matt grabbed Adam's wrist and pulled him inside, Randy right after.

"Talk about gratitude. You can expect an extra charge to the bill." Adam stated "You writing all this down, nurse?"

"With what?" Randy leaned against the door, leering at Adam. "And you knocking on the door does not mean you get to be the doctor."

"But you look better in the costume..." Adam pulled a pair of high heels, hose, and a nurse's outfit, complete with cap out of the bag he'd brought.

"Oh hell no." Randy looked ready to bolt. "No fuckin' way am I wearing that!"

"It's your size, Randy." Adam waved a blonde wig at Orton.

"Look, Jeff is due, as are the rest of us, at the arena in less than two hours. I don't care how you do it, but get him to the show!" Matt shouted "I'm in a bad enough mood as it is right now!"

"Why is that, Snickers?" Adam asked

"None of your business." Matt barked

"I know." Randy whispered something into Adam's ear. Adam giggled, then turned red.

"Zack Ryder? Really!" He whispered

"Hey!" Matt smacked Randy. "You promised you wouldn't tell."

"Never trust a viper." Randy replied

"Assholes, all of you. I'm going to eat before the show. I expect to see ALL THREE OF YOU tonight." Matt grabbed his travel bag and keys and stomped to the elevators.

"I'm not wearing the suit." Randy repeated "Let's just do this normally, or as close to normal as you can accomplish."

"You atmosphere-ruiner." Adam huffed, but he gave in. Randy was stubborn when it came to certain things, and cross-dressing was obviously one of them.

Adam stomped into Jeff's room where the youngest Hardy had apparently been listening since he wasn't startled by their appearance.

"Mr. Hardy. Where's his chart, nurse?" Adam asked

"Chart? What the hell are you talking about?" Randy said

"You're spoiling the whole thing." Adam dug into his bag for something he could use. The only thing remotely close was a recent issue of the WWE magazine. "Okay, patient complains of aches, pains, and refusal to get out of bed."

"I do not!" Jeff protested "I just don't wanna..."

"Shush while Doctor Copeland is diagnosing." Randy waved his finger at Jeff. "Patient also shows rudeness and irritability." He pointed to a random part of the page as if Layla's boobs would verify this.

"I concur, Nurse." Adam chuckled. "I believe the cause of this patient's illness is a lack of stimulation in his life. My prescription is to fuck him senseless."

"Once more, you have astounded medical science with your knowledge." Randy answered "But how do you propose that we administer the proper dosage? Orally or rectally?"

"We'll try orally and if the patient doesn't take it, well, we'll just have to try other methods."

"No medicine!" Jeff eased away from both of them.

"Jeff, this is for your own good." Both Randy and Adam crawled onto the bed and each grabbed a leg to prevent his escape. "If you're a good boy, this won't hurt at all."

"Nooo... Imma scream!" Jeff opened his mouth to yell, but before he could, Adam kissed him.

"Shhh..." Adam whispered through the kiss. "The sooner you relax and take your medicine, the better you'll feel."

Jeff relaxed a little, but he still wasn't accepting the affection from Adam. Even running his fingers through the multi-colored strands of hair wasn't relaxing Jeff . Adam released for air.

"How was that?" Adam answered

"Matty! Tommy! Someone, help me!" Jeff screamed

"That worked real well, Dr. Copeland." Randy retorted

"I don't see you coming up with any ideas..." Adam sneered

"Chill the fuck out, Edge." Randy said "I got a plan..."

Adam leaned back, crossing his arms.

"Now Jeff, I know that you don't want to be hurt again. I can understand that, but you also have to realize that there are people who love you enough to want to help you. Matt wants to help you, I want to help you, and even Edge wants to help you. Will you let us?" Orton was using his promo voice and Adam almost expected him to RKO Jeff right there on the bed.

"But I don't..."

"You don't have to do anything... just watch." Randy said and before Edge could even begin to decipher Orton's plan, he was being kissed with the same passion that he'd tried to kiss Jeff earlier.

"Orton, what the..." Adam's voice was a bit muffled, but his confusion was plain.

"Shut up and go along with it. There's no way Jeff can resist watching the two of us make out." Orton answered "Once he's hard, then we can take things to the next level." Without giving Edge time to respond, Randy began to remove the blond's clothing. Piece by piece Adam was stripped until he was down to his underwear.

"Adam trusts me enough to know that I won't hurt him, right?"

"You better not." Adam mumbled

"Since he trusts me, he'll let me do things that he wouldn't let other people do." Randy continued "Like this."

He pulled Adam's cock free and started to lightly fondle it. The touches sent shivers right through Adam's body and straight to that part of him being touched. He hardened almost immediately.

"He likes it, hey Addy!" Randy smiled, then turned to Jeff, who was mesmerized by the show. Things seemed to be working, thanks to something he'd overheard Matt say to one of the guys in the locker room.

"Since he trusts me, he'll also let me do this." Randy brought Adam's penis to full erection, before bringing his lips to the swollen offering and licking the tip lasciviously.

Both Adam and Jeff moaned loudly. Upon hearing the second moan, Randy looked over briefly and was satisfied to see that Jeff had stuck his hand in his pajama pants and was touching himself.

_So far so good... _ Randy kissed the tip several times, then ran his lips and tongue all along the shaft, wetting it evenly with both his spit and the few drops of precome that had already begun trickling down. When stereo groans reached his ears, Randy knew that things were going according to plan... well sorta.

"Would you like some of this?" He asked, pointing Edge's wet cock at Jeff.

"Uhmz..." Jeff looked down at his own stiff prick, then back at Randy.

"How about you share... you suck Adam and he'll suck you?"

"Okies!" Jeff literally jumped on Adam and the pair was soon slurping at each other noisily. Randy eased off the bed, and quickly scurried out of the bedroom.

"Thank God some things never change..." he grabbed for his cell phone and quickly called Matt.

"What took you so long?" Matt didn't even let the phone ring once before he answered.

"Sorry... Adam was being a jackass." Randy stuck his finger in his ear to drown out the lusty noises that even he could hear through the closed bedroom door.

"As usual." Matt chuckled

Randy also laughed. "Can you tell Erik that Jeff will be at the show on time tonight?"

Matt laughed again. "Already did, Orton, I already did."

"You what?"

"I figured you'd succeed. Talk to you later." He abruptly hung up, leaving Randy staring at his phone.

"Unbelievable." He shook his head. "If I wasn't such a nice Viper, I'd..."

"What the fuck?" Adam stuck his head out the door. "I'm getting raped in here and you're on the phone?"

"I had to call Matt and I figured you had everything under control."

"I did, but Jeff wants to be the meat filling in a Rated RKO-sandwich. Get in here!"

Randy smiled. "Sometimes it's just so easy, I'm ashamed of myself."

Stripping off his clothes as he ran back into the bedroom, the sounds of passion soon had the entire room shaking. And yes, it would be a long time before they were ever allowed to rent a room in that hotel again.

_Up next, Edge/a mystery person for Rratedauthor!_


	19. Na na na na Hey Hey Goodbye

Adam was absolutely, unwaveringly, no doubt about it, stick a ferret in my shorts and call me itchy, bored. Being forced to retire so unexpectedly had its perks. He didn't have to wear tights every day, he could eat as much ice cream as he wanted, and going to the gym was no longer part of his daily routine. However, he hadn't even thought about what he was going to do long-term.

Both Erik and Smackdown GM Teddy Long had offered him a behind the scenes job to keep him in the loop, but if he couldn't go in the ring, he really felt like there was no place for him in business. Adam was happy with the sendoff RAW's owner had provided. There was the usual on-camera party, but Erik had also allowed him to be the guest referee for a "dildo on a pole" match between John Cena and Sheamus. Memories of the finale of that match would keep him in jerk-off fantasies for a good couple of weeks.

"If only there was something to cut the boredom." Adam flipped the channels, hoping to find something that would keep his attention longer than a minute.

...

"_...every babe's gonna want a piece of me..."_

Zack Ryder pulled up to the address he'd scrawled from Erik's day planner while the boss was getting el blotto at the party. He'd asked for the time off, and had been given it, but if some people knew what he planned to do with his vacation, they might not be too jazzed.

"Take care, spike your hair." Zack stared at his reflection in the rear view and flicked the few hairs that were being totally uncool back into place. "Woo woo woo... you know it!"

He stepped out of the car and took one last look at the address for confirmation before scrunching it into a ball and tossing it onto the passenger seat. He was in the right spot and his heart pounded at the thought of what might happen if the Long Island Iced Z played his cards right.

"Must be a bitch to tan." Zack looked around. North Carolina was cold, dreary, and not a place Ryder would choose to settle down in. But not everyone was cool like dat.

He knocked on the big front doors and waited. When no one answered, he knocked a second time.

"Damn, I knew I shoulda called ahead..." Zack shuffled his feet, debating whether he should come back at another time or knock yet again. Just as he raised his hand to assault the door for a third time, it swung open.

"Bro, I was starting to wonder if you meant it when you said if we're ever in the area to stop by." Ryder lowered his shades to stare at the blond who'd finally answered the door.

"I did, but I didn't expect someone from the office to stop by so soon. Erik send you?" Edge was surprised to see a former colleague, but if it broke the boredom, anyone would do.

"Nah, bro. 'N fact, I'd be in a lotta trouble if he knew I was here." Zack replied "He thinks I'm at my Grandma's funeral."

"Same ole Ryder." Edge scratched his chin.

"So bro, you gonna invite me in, or leave me hangin'? I don't mind standin' here, but you know what'll happen. The whole neighbourhood'll be comin' over to see ya, you know it." Zack smiled his goofy grin.

"Good point... welcome to Case de Copeland, the North Carolina version." Adam stepped aside and held the door open for his guest.

"Nice." Zack stepped in, kicking his shoes off.

"Thanks. You want a drink?" Edge asked, heading for the kitchen.

"Nah, bro... I'm still recovering from your going away party." Zack answering, looking over the interior of the house. _Damn, I wish I'da had some of the cash McMahon and Draven threw atcha._

"That was some do." Edge returned "I don't blame ya."

"I guess it was good that we shot RAW before." Zack said, continuing to admire the interior of Adam's home.

"It was bad enough that some of the guys couldn't sit down as it was... " Adam wisecracked, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. "Water?"

Zack nodded. He really wanted something stronger, given that his nerves were going crazy, but he knew from reading Adam's book that the older man didn't drink and was just being polite in the offer.

"Yeah, s-sure, bro..." Zack was desperately trying to conceal his nervousness, but being this close to a man he'd admired for years was cracking his facade like a hammer.

"Here." Adam passed over another bottle before taking a long drink of his own.

_Please God don't let me spill any..._

"You nervous 'bout somethin'?" Adam had heard the slight stutter.

"Nah, bro... just the air conditioning." Zack replied

Adam nodded. "It's not on."

Zack suddenly found reading the label on his water bottle very exciting.

"I Tivoed RAW." Adam said "I know you saw it from backstage, but..."

"Sure bro." Zack couldn't believe the offer. If watching it on TV was half as hot as watching it on a monitor backstage then it was gonna be fun, and Zack's cock twitched in agreement with that.

"Follow me." Adam led the way into the basement, which was only a few degrees cooler than upstairs, but it was like entering a freezer to Zack's overcharged and overheated senses.

Adam dropped onto the couch and even though there were several other chairs in the room, Zack plopped his own frame onto the other end of the three-seater. Adam raised his eyebrow at this, but quickly turned back to the TV.

"I hope I did this right, or it'll be a night of porn for us." Adam half-smiled at Zack.

_I never realized how hot that smile was. I hope I don't shoot in my pants before the fun even starts..._

"...porn?"

"Huh?" Zack blinked at him.

"I said I take it you're into porn." Adam shook his head.

"Nah, never watch it." _I hope he buys that!_

"That's not what Hawkins used to say."

_Dammit!_

"And you believe him? Are you serious, bro?" Zack slipped back into character, hoping that would make the lie a bit more believable.

"We roomed for months together... bro." Adam emphasized the last word. "It's not like I couldn't hear the two of you."

"Oh." Caught in the lie, Zack twiddled his fingers anxiously.

"I really could care less. Better him hit on you than me." Adam shrugged "You wanna watch the whole show?"

"Meh, whatever." He shrugged "I wish he would've hit on you and left me alone. Dude, that guy ruined every chance I had to get some action." Now there were several guys on the roster that Zack would've loved to get with, but Curt Hawkins was not one of them.

Adam turned his head, and it looked like he was going to rebut Zack, but instead he shrugged and hit play on the remote. "Let's skip the bullshit and get to the fun part..."

"Which fun part?" Zack asked "As much as I can recall of that night, there's wasn't a lot of non-fun parts."

"Cena vs. Sheamus with yours truly as the guest referee, silly." Adam rolled his eyes.

Zack's dick jumped and, when he looked over, it appeared to him like Adam's jeans were tightening up as well. Things were beginning to show some promise.

"I would've let the match go on a bit longer, but I figured... hell, I talk too much. Let's just watch and enjoy."

...

"Ladies and gentlemen, the following is a dildo on a pole match scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, from Dublin, Ireland, weighing 275 pounds... Sheamus!"

Casper entered the ring to a mixed reaction. The anti-Cena brigade was in attendance that night, but most of them were a little skeptical about cheering for the Irishman. Or a little drunk, and confused.

Cena entered with his usual theatrics, and then for the last time on RAW is HBO...

"And your guest referee... the Rated R Superstar... Edge!"

The crowd was unanimous in the reaction for Edge... there might have been one or two people booing, but they were probably saying Boo-Edge.

The rules of the match were simple... Climb the pole, get the dildo, and use it on your opponent in a manner deemed sexually explicit enough by the referee and you win. The crowd had an idea as to what "sexually explicit enough" meant, but that wasn't going to ruin their enjoyment of the entertainment.

The match began with a headlock, Cena on Sheamus. Cena's biceps bulged, several women in the crowd shrieked with pleasure, and Sheamus went down to one knee. The move itself wasn't that draining, but Sheamus already had a plan and it involved getting John's belt off and using it as a weapon. As Cena bulged, and posed, Sheamus worked the leather strap open, and pulled it off when he elbowed John in the stomach several times to create separation between them.

Cena looked a little disappointed when he saw how he'd fallen for Sheamus' plan, but that soon changed when he pointed to the dildo hanging above one of the turnbuckles and made a motion that indicated what he planned to do with it.

Sheamus cracked Cena's belt loudly and instead of his usual scowl, it appeared that the Irishman was actually smiling. In return, Cena again pointed to the dildo and made a more expressive gesture toward his opponent. Wrapping the belt around his fist, Sheamus ran toward John, who stepped to the side, then sent Sheamus spiralling into the turnbuckle, face first.

"Can we fast forward this?" Zack asked "I respect John, but I don't like his matches."

"You wanna get to the good part too?" Adam reached for the remote, and slyly winked at Zack.

"I just wanna see you in action as the ref." Zack leaned back, intentionally or not flexing his biceps.

"Oh really." Edge stopped the video and swiveled to face Zack. "Why don't we cut to the chase? You came here wanting to get with me."

Zack swallowed nervously. "Bro, I..." was all he was able to get out before Edge shut him up with a kiss. It only lasted a moment, but it was both time- and heart-stopping for Ryder.

"Usually I hate people who act shady, but" Adam began to rub Zack's nipple through his shirt, "this time I can make an exception."

Zack leaned forward, hoping for another kiss. When Adam obliged, Zack couldn't stop the moan from escaping his lips, nor could he prevent himself from instantly getting hard.

_He's even better of a kisser than Curt said he was..._

His mind returned to normalcy when he felt Adam's body press onto him. To add to the excitement of his arousal, he felt something hard press against his lower belly and finding out that Adam was in a similar state sent more blood flowing to his already super hard anatomy.

When Adam adjusted position to lean in to deepen the kiss, their clothed erections brushed against each other, and both men moaned loudly, muted only slightly by the fact they were still joined at the lips.

Adam didn't want the kiss to stop, it was the most emotionally-charged moment since a drunken grope with one of the college students that the WWE hired as stage crew shortly after he joined the company.

Neither did Zack, so it was a complete suprise when Adam did pull away. "Is something wrong?" He was confused

"Nothing's wrong." Adam sighed "Nothing has never felt so right."

"Then shut up and kiss me again." Zack twined his fingers into Adam's long locks and pulled him back again.

"I got a better idea." Adam winked and smiled evilly. His long fingers worked the buttons on Zack's shirt, baring his chest.

"Someone's been working out." Adam rubbed the prominent pectoral muscles.

"Gym, tan, wrestle." Zack arched his back. Adam's hands were hitting nerves that Zack didn't even know existed. Just the thought of what those hands could do elsewhere was driving his mind, not to mention his cock, crazy.

Adam kept up the massage for only a moment more, before moving lower and gently caressing the hard column of flesh that was straining for release from his jeans. It didn't take long for Zack to fell the explosion building inside him.

"Adam... please?" Zack moaned "I'm gonna come if you don't..."

"It looks like you're gonna come if I do... either way, you need a hand." Adam gave him a last grope with his left hand while working open his pants with his right. His eyes widened at the sight and that send messages to his brain, which told his hands that the underwear had to go. Seconds later, Adam had his first view of Zack's penis, hard, red with desire, and throbbing. It looked like an explosion was eminent.

Remembering what had made Hawkins shoot, Adam cupped Zack's swollen balls while gently stroking the thick vein that ran down the back of his dick. Zack's eyes rolled back in his head and he groaned loudly, a drop of precum oozing from the head.

If the sensations from Adam's hands weren't enough to drive Zack crazy, when Adam leaned in and licked his head, that was enough to send him over the edge, pardon the pun.

"Fuck... please Adam, I can't... I'm..." His cock spasmed and Adam just moved his head out of the way before he came and came hard, shooting thick streams that painted his chest in a crazy pattern of white.

Adam smiled. His own cock's need for release was temporarily forgotten in the rush of having made Zack feel so good.

"I take it you enjoyed that." He asked sarcastically.

"You know it." Zack wiped some of the release from his chest and looked at it, a little sad that he'd finished so quickly. "How about you?"

Adam raised up, allowing Zack to see his own aroused state. "Do you really have to ask?"

"Nope." Zack reached for Adam's bulge and caressed it in a similar fashion to what Adam had done. "Now it's your turn."

_If only my damn neck wouldn't have given out... _was the last coherent thought Adam had for the rest of the day, as he and Ryder spent it getting to know each other on a completely more personal level... and if you're wondering if this was just the start of things... Woo woo woo, You Know It!

...

"Draven." Erik hated answering the phone, especially when it rang during the show. "If you worked for me, you don't anymore."

"This is John Lauranitis, executive vice-president of talent relations for the WWE." It sounded like the man on the other end had been chewing gravel for the past ten years.

"Never heard of you... what do you want?" Erik lied, hoping to end the conversation quickly and get back to watching RAW.

"I am just calling you to inform you that the WWE is filing a lawsuit against you for trademark infringement."

"Well, good for them. If they have a problem, tell whomever that they're more than welcome to come to RAW next week and bitch." Erik hung up the phone before Lauranitis could say any more. "Ass hole."

Erik stared at the phone for a few seconds, before stepping out into the hallway. "Cooper... as soon as the show is over, call a talent meeting. Next week is gonna be fun!"

THE END


	20. Houston, we have a problem

**One Hour Before RAW...**

"Next item... Sabin, Shelley, I've finally cleared it with everyone and we got you a new team name. Assuming it works for both of you, we'd like to call you the Murder City Saints. Cool?"

"Awesome!" Alex and Chris high-fived.

"Last item... just a reminder that we will be having an, ahem, VIP at the show tonight. I have no idea exactly where this is going, but please do not lock him in the broom closet until after I find out." Erik pleaded. All week long, he'd been conferencing with his personal attorney, the company lawyers, and anyone else he could find who had expertise in Patent law. Everyone had reviewed the contract and as far as their opinions went, the WWE had no more claim to the name RAW than John Morrison could claim royalties to the music of the Doors.

"What about after?" Jeff giggled

Erik sighed, shaking his head. "Don't tempt me, Jeffro. Everyone's got their assignments, so let's give them a good show. Phil, you wanted to speak with me?... I'll be in my office in ten minutes."

**45 Minutes to go...**

Sitting at his desk, piled high with legal paperwork, Erik waited for Phil. No clue as to what Punk wanted, but Erik figured it had something to do with his lifestyle conflicting with the RAW programming, but why he'd waited so long to say something was a mystery.

"You in, boss?" Erik literally had an open-door policy, which allowed talent to just walk in to discuss stuff, assuming he was in the office.

"Take a seat, Phil."

Phil sat down, squarely staring at Erik.

"Whatever it is that is eating at you must be really important if you need to talk on a day like this."

"You know how I roll. I've stuck around since the takeover and I've enjoyed watching the rest of the guys do stuff that normally would be done in the privacy of their beds and hotel rooms, but..."

Erik held up his hand to interrupt. "Stop right there. I know where this is going and I wish you'd have talked to me earlier. Let me be as honest with you now. Straight-edge isn't for a lot of people and I get it. But it's your thing and I also get that. That's why your penis hasn't made a single appearance since I took over. As I recall, I gave everyone the opportunity to leave when I came in, and you said nothing at the time."

"I probably should have." Punk hung his head. "But I figured that maybe there'd be a spot for me somewhere. It's just like, I'll be stuck in mid-card hell because I won't compromise."

"Unfortunately, this is a terrible time. No matter what happens with this whole trademark nonsense, I don't see any chance that I'll be able to trade you back to WWE. I could call ROH and see if they're interested in you."

"Could you do that?"

"I can try. The only other option is for you to drop the straight-edge and get with the sex, but I know that ain't gonna happen. Despite what Jeffro's told me about your attributes below the waist, this is not a dictatorship."

"Excuse me, Mr. Draven? We have a problem... Laurinaitis is here." Without even bothering to see if the boss was alone, referee Megan stuck her face in the door.

"Why is that a problem? I invited the sonovabitch."

"He's not alone." Megan answered

"He brought his lawyers?"

"Worse than that." She stated "He brought Otunga."

"Fuck me with Triple H's broomstick! Are they inside yet?"

"Just pulled into the parking lot."

"Make sure Jeff doesn't find out about Otunga and spread the word that he does not get into the building. Anyone who lets him in is looking for work in the morning. Phil, we'll finish this after the show, okay?"

Punk nodded.

**30 Minutes To Go...**

"I told you on the phone that I'd be bringing legal counsel with me." Laurinaitis looked shocked when he was informed that David Otunga would not be allowed in.

"Last time I checked this pervert was not a member of your company's on-site legal team. Ergo, he gets in over your dead body." Erik stood his ground.

"If you want to play hardball, that's fine with me." Johnny Ace could be just as stubborn as the next guy when it came to business.

"I am Harvard educated." Otunga put in his nickel's worth.

"We're a long way from Bahston." Erik stated "Mr. Laurinaitis, you're here by invite, but there is no way I'm letting mister I can't keep it in my pants in the building after what he did to one of my talent."

"What'd he do?"

"If you don't know, that's not my problem... now do I have to call security?"

"Wait outside... I'll deal with this." Obviously, it was not what John wanted, but Erik was adamant and it didn't help that his legal aide had his own skeleton in the closet.

...

**15 Minutes To Go...**

"You sure about this?" Heath Slater demanded, gasping for air as he was dragged down a corridor. "We're the first match."

"All the more reason to." Justin Gabriel answered "This is a straight tag match... there's no funny business."

"I don't understand." Heath tore himself out of Justin's vice grip. "And I can walk, thank you very much."

"Good, 'coz we're here." Justin pushed open a door and beckoned inside.

Heath stepped inside and gasped. The room was obviously used for storage, but most of the clutter had been pushed to one side or the other to make room for a mattress, some candles, a bucket of champagne and some glasses.

"I found this room earlier. I figured you and I could celebrate." Justin's hot breath on the back of Heath's neck was enough to send the blood coursing through his veins. "After all, it has been three months since Barrett left and we've been able to be together."

"Three months?" Heath swallowed nervously. "Has it really been that long?"

"Yeah... doesn't seem like it, does it?"

Heath turned around. Being only one inch bigger (in height), he leaned in and kissed Justin in one fluid movement. Justin moaned against Heath's mouth, and their tongues quickly met in a hot duel.

"How long do we have?" Heath asked, when they finally had to breathe.

Justin looked at his watch. "Nine minutes, maybe longer depending how long Erik talks."

"Let's hope he's as longed winded out there as he is during the staff meetings." Heath leaned back in. "Or this may be a quickie."

"Can't be any quicker than our first time." Justin recalled

"Not my fault you got frisky at the Gorilla position." Heath said. "I was just givin' you a helping hand."

"I never want to wrestle with cum in my pants ever again." Justin said "Not fun."

"Anyway, less talk..." Heath reformed the kiss and gently lowered Justin to the mattress. If his partner was going to be that considerate, then the One Man Rock Band was going to take advantage of it.

"At least we don't have to worry about clothes." Justin moaned

"Why do you think I waited until you were changed?" Heath tugged on Justin's trunks, lowering them just enough to reach inside. Justin arched at the first contact, raising his lower body up and pushing his own gear down to his thighs.

Heath's long fingers stroked Justin to complete hardness in seconds. "This may still be a quickie."

Justin giggled. Not from the comment, but because Heath's ginger locks were tickling his body as Heath kissed down his muscular chest. The giggles soon tapered off, replaced by moans and gasps when his lower belly and thighs became the focus of Slater's gentle kisses.

"Fuck..." Even though he knew that Heath wasn't going to stop until they were both satisfied, Justin couldn't stop himself from looking at his watch. He also kept reminding himself to take it off before their match.

"I thought you'd never ask... but first I gotta get you ready." Heath licked his fingers in such a way that had Justin even more aroused. Using first his tongue, then his fingers, he stretched the young South African to take him without too much pain. Not that he cared who knew about them, but Justin's ring attire left nothing to the imagination. Any excess fluids could turn their 'normal' tag match into an awkward situation.

Once he was stretched enough, Heath grabbed a rubber from under the mattress and quickly sheathed himself.

"Ready, Angel?" He whispered softly.

Justin looked into Heath's eyes, swallowing nervously. He'd been looking forward to this ever since they hooked up, but he'd planned to be the one on top.

"I won't hurt you." Heath licked the tip of his nose. "Just remember to breathe."

Justin nodded. He exhaled as Heath entered him. After the initial discomfort, and overriding his body's desire to push, he found it quick enjoyable. He waited for Heath to move and was rewarded with an burst of pleasure that made him see stars when Slater finally started pumping in and out of him.

"Nice and tight... just how I like it." A few drops of sweat fell from Slater's forehead and landed on Justin's chest.

"Faster..." Justin moaned, arching his back to take more of Heath.

"You sure? We still got..." Heath grabbed Justin's wrist. "five minutes."

In reply, Justin clenched his butt cheeks, causing Heath to moan. "Damn, for a twink you're pushy." He muttered, but started to move at a faster pace, making both of their bodies perspire.

Their grunts got louder with every stroke and even though he was already balls-deep in his partner, Heath thrust harder with each push. He wiped some of the moisture from his brow and used it to slick up Justin's untouched penis, and once it was nice and slippery, Heath started to jerk it with his thrusts.

"Tell me when you're ready." Heath panted, leaning in to kiss Justin again. "I want to come with you."

Justin smiled. "You tell me first."

"Deal." Heath increased the speed at which he was stroking Gabriel, matching the rhythm with his thrusts. He was normally good with his endurance, but there was something about the way Justin looked, bathed in sweat, his dark hair sticking to his forehead, that was making his orgasm approach faster that he hoped. "I'm ready."

"Me too." Justin growled "Now fuck me like your life depends on it."

Heath did. He knew he couldn't hold on much more, but when he heard Justin shout something in Afrikaans, then felt both a wetness on his fingers and Justin clench around his dick, he knew that it didn't matter one bit. With a couple more deep strokes, he came, filling the condom with his load. He collapsed on top of Gabriel, their chests heaving against one another while they came down from the highs.

"Wow..." Justin said, flicking a few strands of red hair out of Heath's face. "...that was..."

"Good?" Heath asked

"I was going to say incredible, awesome, and I wish we had enough time so I could do the same to you, but..." With a sad sigh, Justin looked at his watch. "The show starts in one minute."

"Oh well, we'll always have the storage room." Heath said, disposing of the used rubber. "You think the champagne will keep until after the show?"

"The show... you really wanna wait that long?" Justin winked "Let's destroy our opponents and then we'll have the rest of the night to celebrate."

"I like the way you think, Angel." Heath grinned

"And I like the way you fuck, Rock Band." Justin grinned right back.

...

"My name is John Laurinaitis. I am the Executive Vice-President of Talent Relations for the WWE. I am here to inform you that effective immediately, this show is cancelled!"

TO BE CONTINUED...

_This chapter wasn't supposed to go this way, but smileyheather24 requested some Slariel, so who am I to say no?_


	21. Confrontation, Part One

"I said my name is John Laurinaitis and I am the Executive Vice-President of Talent Relations for the WWE." J.L. repeated just in case the RAW audience hadn't heard him the first time. "And I am here..."

The only problem was that the RAW audience had heard him the first time and if anything, booed him even louder. So loud and, much like the show, graphic were their shouts and catcalls of displeasure, that the WWE's hired bagman had to stop in mid-repetition.

"You know, I actually thought you people were smarter than that, but I see now why this show has become the pornographic crap-fest that it is. As of twelve noon today, WWE has filed papers to take back all programming, personnel, and revenue streams resulting from the sale of the RAW brand to one Erik Draven on March 6 of 2010. On behalf of one Vincent Kennedy McMahon and the McMahon family, I would like to state that had he known what kind of depravity the WWE universe was going to be subjected to, he never would have agreed to the sale in the first place." Laurinaitis paused to allow this piece of information to sink in.

Backstage, the RAW talent, referees, and crew were watching with shocked expressions on their faces.

"Pornographic crap-fest? Just who the fuck does this asshole think he is?" Cooper looked ready to charge the ring and do something violent.

"Depravity?" Jeff looked confused "I'm not even sure what that is."

"I would also like to state that Mr. Draven has until the close of business, that is 7'oclock, tomorrow to make a decision as to whether he will fight this or not. Since he was kind enough to invite me here, I am inviting him to our live Smackdown taping tomorrow night to give the WWE his decision."

"Damn straight he's gonna fight this." Tom Hardy looked over at his boss. "Aren't you?"

"Don't you worry your pretty little head, Tommy-boy." Erik sneered "The boss has one or two tricks up his sleeve."

"And a word to all talent in the back. Everyone who was under contract to WWE at the time of purchase will be hired back. The rest of you will be wished the best of luck in their future endeavors. Thank-you."

_It's a shame that they lost their head..._

The Celtic Warrior had somehow snuck away from the rest of the roster and was now standing on the stage, blocking Laurinaitis' exit.

"Just a moment there, fella. Are you saying that if Vince McMahon takes back control that anyone who was under contract will automatically have a job?"

"That is correct." John stated "And believe me, nothing like what happened to you two weeks ago will ever be allowed to happen again."

"You mean I'll never have me trunks pulled off and me arse exposed and a toy that is normally used for women's pleasure be stuffed inside?" Sheamus clarified

"When you put it that way, yes."

Sheamus looked thoughtfully for a few moments. "If it's all the same to you fella, I'll take a pass on it."

The crowd roared its agreement.

"Don't get me wrong, it's a nice idea, but hell I've had the time of me life since Erik took over. You may call it depravity, but we call it good, clean fun. Christ, that glorified boy-scout John Cena was the first to let it all hang out..."

_Your time is up, my time is now..._

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on there a second..." The mentioned boy scout stepped on stage. "I don't want to interrupt, Great White, but I do have a few things to say about this."

Laurinaitis looked smug.

"While I do have to admit that working here has given me more exposure than any picture I could have posted on Twitter, and little Johnny is still getting fan mail, thank-you." Cena groped himself so everyone would get the message loud and clear. "There is still something to be said about working for a normal wrestling company. A normal, straightforward... ah who am I kidding, I ain't goin' nowhere!"

The crowd cheered loudly, wiping the smug expression from the face of the lone man in the ring.

"You and McMahon may think that you can stop this momentum, but if you do, you're dumber than the entire TNA writing staff, even with Bruce Pritchard now in charge!"

"May I remind the two of you that you are just two... I am sure that there are a lot of guys in the back who may think differently!"

_Look in my eyes, what do you see? The Cult of Personality..._

If any one man's appearance could cause a crowd in this situation to shift nervously, it was that of the Second-City Straight-Edge. Guess what, folks, he also had a live microphone.

"If there was ever anyone who had something important to say on this, it's me. Since Erik took over, I have been subjected to things that not only offend me personally, but should offend all of you. I mean, look at what we've had to put up with... dildo on a pole matches, full frontal tuxedo-matches, and my personal favorite: a ring-gear battle royal... oh yeah, that was awesome. Watching a bunch of overpaid pretty boys throwing each other's stuff over the top rope. That was compelling..."

"Hell, we got a 10 rating that week." Erik shrugged "And he won the damn thing, so I don't know what he's complaining about."

The crowd began booing Punk.

"Now hold on a minute. Before you go all flip-flop on me, let's look at Mr. John Laurinaitis... Johnny Ace, if you will. One of Vince McMahon's yes-men. Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't you who once said that I wouldn't ever rise above mid-card? Wasn't it also you who pushed to have me become the leader of the New Nexus? What were you thinking? Hell, what was I thinking? Everybody knows about the 'new' curse in pro wrestling. You tried to bury me, Johnny-boy, and if it comes down to working for you or working here... I don't believe I'm saying this, but I'm staying here."

"You three all know that what you're doing is committing career suicide."

"Suicide?" Sheamus interjected "I think you got it all wrong fella. We got sweet deals with Erik and..."

_Two kinds of people in this world... winners, losers..._

Tom Hardy cockily strutted on stage.

"I hate to interrupt y'all, but let me speak for those who would find themselves in the soup kitchen line if the WWE takes back the show. Since myself, Alex Shelley, Chris Sabin, most of the referees and announcers never worked, nor probably would ever work, for WWE, let me ask you a question. What makes you think that even if you bully your way into retaking this show that Erik won't just retool his focus? He has an ironclad deal with this network, I've been told. He owns this time slot. Sure, they may have to put on reruns of "OZ" for a week or two, but we'll be back on our feet before you can say 'penis'."

The audience laughed.

"And for the record, I'm staying." Tom stated

_I hear voices in my head. They counsel me, they understand..._

The fans in attendance erupted once more when the Viper joined Cena, Sheamus, Punk, and Hardy on stage. But that didn't last. He walked right past the four men and down to the ring. Laurinaitis backpedaled into a corner, dropping his mic in the center of the mat.

"Easy, easy..." Randy motioned, picking it up. "I am just here to give my opinion. Unlike everyone else around here, I can look at things from a different perspective. This show is not for everyone, as CM Punk so vocally put it. But there are a lot of people for whom this show is the perfect, pardon the expression, release. What gives you, or Mr. McMahon, or anyone else the right to not only break your word, but dictate to these people what kind of entertainment they are permitted to enjoy?"

John took the mic back. "No one is trying to dictate anything. Mr. McMahon is contending, and I rightfully agree with him, that the terms of sale were violated by Mr. Draven when he turned the longest-running show on cable into this... whatever this is. His disregard from everything from equality to common decency is hurting everyone!"

"By everyone, you mean Vince's bank account?" Randy cocked his head. "I know Vince very well. If he was still making money, we wouldn't even be having this discussion. But I'm sure that's not what you want me to do."

The fans began to chant 'RKO', 'RKO', 'RKO'.

"You want me to agree to come back to work for you and Vince, right? If that's the case, let's shake on it." Randy held out his hand and John shook. Randy nodded, then just as suddenly his left eye twitched and before your could say 'Laurinaitis', he was flat on his face in the ring, thanks to one RKO.

Randy went down on his knuckles and glared at the prone form. "You honestly thought I'd come back after you hired a prostitute who couldn't act to play my wife? You ruined not only a good storyline, but everything else in my life because you didn't want to expose my personal life on TV? If it wasn't for that little stunt, I would still be happily married, still have a happy home life, and hell, I'd probably still be straight."

Randy stood. "Now that everything is settled, what do you want us to do with him?"

Erik appeared on the Verboten-tron. "Considering how much air time he's wasted already, I'd say toss him in a broom closet somewhere."

While Orton carried the body off-camera, Erik addressed the crowd. "Well, now that you've sorta heard what's going on, do you think I should cave in to Vinnie-Mac?"

In one voice, the audience replied with a 'no'.

"So you all think I should fight this thing, even if it does mean being preempted for a week or two?"

Deafening cheers.

"I'll take that under consideration. For the record, I will be at the live Smackdown tomorrow night with my decision. But for now, we got a show for you..."

The theme for the Murder City Saints, Alex Shelley and Chris Sabin, signaled the start of their tag title defense against Heath Slater and Justin Gabriel. While waiting for his big-names to return from the stage, Erik looked at his crew. "Well, guys, what are you all doing tomorrow?"

...

A couple of bribes to the guys at the loading dock and Erik was able to get his entire roster into the arena where Smackdown was being held.

"Everyone set?" Erik asked

Nods all around.

"Morrison, you're my point man. When you hear me drop the f-bomb, you know what to do." Erik adjusted his tie and strolled into the arena. Some of the divas who used to work for him gave him the evil eye as he passed, as did Wade Barrett, but other than that, none of them knew what was happening.

Smackdown had allotted Messrs McMahon and Laurinaitis the last fifteen minutes of airtime. Once the match between Big Show and Mark Henry ended, and with the usual outside shenanigans, they took to the ring.

"As most of you know, yesterday I placed a formal request to reacquire the RAW brand. This is not, as some of you seem to think, a personal attack on Mr. Draven, nor an attack on anyone's freedoms to choice what entertains them. This was not what I was lead to believe was going to happen when I sold him the property. I had to pay the USA network a large sum of money out of my own pocket when he abruptly switched networks. A switch that neither I nor the network executives were informed of."

"I agree with Mr. McMahon." Michael Cole added "I was there for a couple weeks and you wouldn't believe the stuff that went on."

"You're just jealous Cole, 'coz no one hit on you." Booker T added

"I gave Mr. Draven until the close of business today to answer me. That has come and gone. I am assuming then, that he is not planning to fight this and therefore..."

"Hold up, hold up, hold up." Dispensing with such cheap fanfare as pyro or an entrance theme, Erik did make an appearance. "I am here and frankly after what my boy Randy did to Johnny there yesterday, that you would be so nonchalant."

"Don't underestimate me. I have taken all relevant precautions." A group of black-shirted security officers stepped in front of the ring, making a double row of bodies separating Erik from the two men in the ring.

"And here I thought we were just here to talk." Erik sighed "So much for my faith in the system. Seriously? There's like fifty of you here and one of me. What am I gonna do? If you wanna discuss this like gentlemen, then forget the hired goons and let's sit down and talk. I assume that's why you brought a table into the ring. Or are you gonna power-bomb the Marty Jannetty of the Dynamic Dudes and save us all a lot of trouble?"

John grabbed the mic. "My name is..."

"Stick a sock in it. We all know who you are, what you do, and whose ass you kiss." Erik interrupted "So are we talking or do I have to have my lawyers contact your lawyers?"

"Let him in."

The red-and-black sea parted. Erik entered the ring and took the solo chair opposite Vince and his right-hand stooge. "Okay, talk."

"It's quite simple. I am taking back RAW." Vince announced "And there is nothing you can do about it."

_Over my dead body Vinnie-Mac. Or maybe over your dead body, we'll have to see..._

"If there is nothing I can do about it, then why did you even invite me here?" Erik leaned back, putting his feet up on the table.

"I brought you here so that everyone could witness you signing the papers that will put the control back where it belongs." Vince announced proudly. "I have wished for this day ever since I first learned of the tarnish you had given to the name of the WWE."

_Better be careful what you wish for... remember what happened with Ted Turner and WCW..._

"So that's what all that paperwork is for?" Erik pointed to the stack directly opposite his left foot.

"I have already signed the deal. All that remains is for you to affix your name to it and everything is settled. I will receive all title to RAW and you'll receive what you paid for it."

"It's a fair offer." Laurinaitis added

"Anyone who knows me knows that I am not in business to break even. Maybe you think this is a fair offer but to me it's a slap in the face." Erik smirked "Maybe I should just let my lawyers handle it. I guess you hadn't heard, but we filed a motion to appeal. I'll see you in court, Vince." He flung the papers back at Vince and stood.

Vince's face turned red. "Just who the hell do you think you are? I'm Vince McMahon, dammit! No one messes with Vince McMahon!"

Erik's smirk got bigger. "I just did, Vinnie-Mac. I just did. If you think that I am gonna be a pushover just because you have lawyers, then you really need to think again. I'm Erik Draven, and no one fucks with Erik Draven!"

Backstage...

"That's our cue... go!"

Erik's roster tore through the backstage area like a wave, knocking stuff over, including the odd person who couldn't get out of the way fast enough, and hit the staging area. Vince's security was no match for the surge of humanity and they were soon pounded into oblivion.

"What the hell are you doing?" Vince screamed, sounding eerily similar to Brother Love when the Warrior was trashing his set. "You can't..."

"We can and we are. Boys, do your stuff." Erik stood back and watching the carnage unfold.

The Smackdown roster was on the scene, but even they were powerless. Bodies were piling up and the fans were in shock. What was happening here made the Nexus run-in seem tame and showed everyone why X was more than just a letter of the alphabet to Draven and friends. From the ring, Erik laughed.

"Don't forget about my good friend Michael Cole. He's been a pain in my ass since I fired him." Erik pointed to the announce position and moments later got the thrill of a lifetime when his referees, yes his FEMALE referees, pounded the living hell out of the mouthiest man in sports entertainment. Cooper knocked out Booker T with a hard chair shot to the skull and that just left Josh Matthews who to his credit tried to escape. Megan would have none of that. She pounced on him, punching him in the crotch hard enough to make him black out, then threw him over the barricade and into the crowd. The only person to escape was ring announcer Tony Chimel, but that was by pure luck.

Once the entire ringside area was trashed, the RAW roster surrounded the ring, pounding on it. Vince and Johnny Ace were trapped.

"You still think you got the upper hand?" Erik flipped over the table separating them. "Huh, do ya, Vince?"

Vince was quaking in fear. Hoping to somehow escape, he used Laurinaitis as a human shield.

"Real original." Erik sighed

"Do you know who you're messing with?" Vince's face was now bright red, the veins in his forehead and neck prominent. "Do you?"

"Blah, blah, fucking blah." Erik retorted, taking another step closer. "What I see is a scared little man hiding behind another scared little man."

"Well screw you, you bastard!" Vince spat over Laurinaitis' shoulder. It landed right on Erik's cheek.

Erik wiped the offensive goo from his cheek, looked at it for a second, then lunged. Laurinaitis stepped forward to stop him.

"Now listen here. You are a guest..." That was all he was able to say before Draven decked him. Before he could get his wits about him, Erik threw John over the top rope and watched as his troops took turns pummeling the VP of talent into a bloody pulp.

"Now that just leaves you." Erik stared down Vince. "I could do the same thing to you, but what would be the point? I mean, really, we've already trashed the place, taken out your entire roster, and messed up Johnny Ace. I'm sure the fans would love to see you bloodied..."

"I'm sure they would too, but I have a better idea. How about a match with me? Nothing funny, no gimmicks, just a one-on-one fight. If I win, you hand over control of RAW to me right then and there." Vince stammered, hoping to maybe buy some time to work an escape.

"And if you lose?" Erik asked "What do I get?"

"That won't happen, but if it does, I'll leave you alone. No more suits, no more lawyers, no more corporate power plays." Vince replied

"Seriously?" Erik asked

"I'll come to RAW next week and we can do it there. The only stipulation I ask for is two referees. One from your company and one from mine." Vince added

Erik nodded. "Okay. I'll see you at RAW."

Vince extended his hand, but Erik was already walking away.

"One more thing Vince... I lied! Get him!"

Walking up the ramp, Erik smiled. He didn't need to hear the shouts from his men and the exclamations of pain from Vince to know that his plan had worked. With any luck, Vince should be in no condition to show up, much less fight him on RAW. All was right in Erik's world... for now.

TO BE CONTINUED

_I know some of you might be disappointed that there is no fucking in this chapter, but as someone pointed out to me, anything involving sex and Laurinaitis is just icky._


	22. Confrontation, Part Two, Puppy Love

It was 5:30 p.m. on Monday October 31st, 2011. With what might be the last night of RAW is HBO less than four hours away, there was noticeably less lightness in the air. The impending doom hadn't stopped some of the guys from wearing costumes, and it did make for some lighter moments. One in particular involving one of the tech crew going to get some cable and finding Sailor Moon fucking the Cowardly Lion.

The boss himself was scarce for most of the day. No surprise there. Erik had pigeonholed himself in his office, making contingency plan after contingency plan. Just in case... in fact, his first appearance was the pre-show staff meeting.

"Tonight's rundown... tag-title rematch, tornado-style. Saints vs. Nexus. Cena vs Miz in a street-fight, then the interview segment with Randy... where is Orton, by the way?"

Many heads looked around, but the Viper was missing in action.

"Meh, must've gone to catering or something..." Erik droned on for a couple more minutes, then abruptly ended his speech, but without mentioning the one thing that was on everyone else's mind.

"Sir, you are gonna talk about your match tonight, right?" Alex Riley asked. The other stars murmured amongst themselves, of the opinion that this was also on their minds.

"What's there to talk about? I beat the shit outta Vince, and then it's business as usual. There is one thing I should mention. Megan, you're my referee, if that's cool. We do need to find a two-headed coin so you're guaranteed to be in the ring instead of outside."

"I'm on it." Cody Rhodes shouted

"Thanks, Zelda."

"The rest of you just wish me luck.' Erik shrugged "And if I do lose, it's been fun working with most of you."

...

"It is now time for our main event. This bout is no-disqualification, no count-out, no time limit and the winner receives control of RAW. Introducing first, accompanied to the ring by John Laurainitis and his chosen referee Scott Armstrong, from Greenwich, Connecticut, weighting 260 pounds, the chairman of the WWE, Mr. McMahon..."

Vince flexed, showboated, and taunted the hostile crowd the entire way down.

...

"Oh fuck oh fuck ohfuckohfuckohfuck..." Evan shouted, frantically trashing his hotel room, looking for his ring gear. He'd overslept his alarm, both wake-up calls, and he was now so late it would be a miracle if he arrived before the show ended.

"Wha...?" The mound of bedclothes shifted a few inches. Randy Orton stuck his head into the open, wincing at the sudden brightness. "Evvie..."

"Randy, we were supposed to be at the arena two hours ago." Evan shouted "Erik is gonna kill us, if he hasn't already put a bounty on our heads! Get up." He threw the closest pillow to hand at Randy.

"Dude, you gotta..." Randy swatted the pillow away, mid-sentence. "...relax. If Erik wins, he'll be too busy celebrating with that Lawson boy to notice that we weren't at the show and if he loses, at least we still have jobs. Besides, wasn't last night worth it?"

Evan smiled, remembering what had transpired.

"I thought so. Now why don't you take a seat like a good little puppy and I'll grab a quick shower and get dressed. Then we can drive to the arena and we'll deal with it later."

Evan nodded.

Randy staggered into the shower and Evan's thoughts were soon back at last night. What a night it was...

...

"So I'z tells Cena... I don't care if you like rap, I'm not going to... hey Puppy!"

Evan cringed. He hated that nickname with a passion. If he ever found out who originated it, he was going to go Air Bourne on their ass in a non-pleasurable way.

"Hey Puppy... we missed ya!" Randy slurred louder, staggering over and falling over Evan, almost taking the smaller man to the floor.

"I missed you too, Randy." Evan looked to Cody and Ted for some help.

"C'mon Randy, you've enough fun for the night. Let's get you to bed." Those words were music to Evan's ears. Until Randy decided that there was only one way he was going back to his room.

"Nuh-uh. Not with you." Randy pointed at a plant, confusing it with either Ted, Cody, or both in his drunken state. "Only if Puppy takes me."

Evan was going to protest, but Randy suddenly wrapped him up in a bear hug. "Please, Puppy?"

Evan ground his teeth. "Fine, but only if you stop calling me that."

"Okay Puppy." Randy dropped a wet, liquor-covered kiss on Evan's cheek.

"What room is he staying in?" Evan tried to wipe the combo of spit and vodka off his face and keep Randy upright at the same time. A tough balancing act for sure.

"417." Ted answered "Good night and good luck."

"Thanks." Evan groaned "I'll need it."

By some combination of sheer luck and brute force, Evan got Randy into the elevator. He reached for the fourth floor button. The sooner he could get his intoxicated coworker into his own room, the better. To his surprise, his arm was grabbed before he could finish.

"Randy, what are you..."

"I don't want to go back to my room." Randy's voice was sudden louder and clearer. "If you get my drift..."

"What the... you mean you're not drunk?"

"Fuck no. I was just doing that to get rid of those two. If I had to listen to one more conversation about either video games or stock dividends, I was going to RKO both of them right there." Randy answered "So, what say we go back to your room and have a more stimulating conversation." He gently rubbed his hand against the front of Evan's jeans. "Got me?"

Evan swallowed anxiously, bobbing his head in time to Randy's hand.

"Good Puppy." Randy stopped his teasing to allow Evan to press the button for his own floor.

Evan was thankful that no one else got on the elevator, especially anyone else from the company. Trying to explain why he had a goofy expression on his face and a tent in his jeans wasn't going to be easy under any circumstances.

With shaking hands, Evan exited the car and hurried to his room, Orton on his heels. It seemed to take forever for him to get his keycard out and swipe it. More than once he dropped or almost dropped it.

"Anxious, puppy?" Randy breathed into Evan's ear, making his whole body break out into goose bumps.

"D-d-don't call me that." Evan shivered, though many nights he'd brought himself off whispering those very words.

"If you say so." Randy leered at Evan like the predator he was. "But methinks thou doth protest too much."

_I'm about to blow a load in my pants and he's quoting Shakespeare... what the fuck!_

Randy backed Evan into the small room. Trying not to seem like the horny teenager everyone thought he was, Bourne backed away from the larger veteran until the bed clipped him in the calves and he fell onto the well-used mattress with a springy BOINK!

"You're making this way too easy." Randy sprung at Evan.

The aerialist rolled out of the way and this time Randy ate mattress. His body was saying one thing, but from the tales of the locker room, nothing good ever came, pardon the expression, of getting involved with R.A.W.'s resident in-ring predator.

"I'm not that easy." Evan would've been happy to push Randy out of the room and spend the rest of the night with his fantasies, hand, and a box of tissues. The way Orton was staring at him, propped up on his elbows... not a very likely scenario.

"Aw Puppy..."

"I told you NOT TO CALL ME THAT!" Evan shouted the last five words. "Or have you taken too many shots to the head to be able to remember five simple words?"

What Randy did next totally shocked Evan. There was no smart-ass answer, no joke without a punchline, nothing like that. Orton rolled into a sitting position and stared at his hands. When he did finally look at Evan, his eyes were starting to glisten. He swallowed loudly, a single tear running down the right side of his face. The trail it left reminded Evan of snail slime.

"I'm doing it again, aren't I?" Orton sighed audibly. "Fuck."

"Randy? What's going on?" Evan asked "I mean, this isn't like you."

"What? Being remotely human?" Orton retorted "Yeah, that's what he said."

Evan scrunched his nose. "What who said?"

"John." Randy wiped the side of his face and flicked the tear to the carpet. "He told me that until I started thinking about someone other than myself... fuck!" He repeated, pounding the mattress hard enough to make the entire bed frame creak.

"Wait a minute... you and Cena?" Evan asked

Randy shook his head, tears now flowing from both eyes. "Morrison." he hiccuped

That piece of information was in some ways surprising and in other ways, not so much. It also explained why Morrison had requested a leave of absence, but had never returned.

"Morrison?" Bourne repeated "But weren't he and A-Ri together?"

"Apparently they were." Randy exhaled "But I didn't know; honest. I hadn't seen them together in a while so I asked John out. When he said no, I fucked up Evvie... I fucked up!" Again he pounded the mattress.

"What did you do?" Did he really want to know? Evan couldn't answer that.

"I told Riley. Made up some shit about how John had forced himself on me after a few drinks..."

"Motherfucker, you broke them up!" Evan interrupted

"I fuckin' know that!" Randy shouted back. "Fuck, why can't I do anything right? Fuck, fuck, fuck..." He leaned back on the bed, saying nothing more.

Evan watched Orton, totally confused. He had thought that Randy had just wanted a quick fling, but now everything had been turned one-eighty. Just listening to Randy breath in and out, Evan heard the signs of someone trying not to break down even more.

"Randy, listen..."

"I know, I know... I've heard all this shit before. You were just playing along, but you're really not into me. I get that. I guess I'll go now."

Before Evan's mind could register that the man of his dreams was about to leave, Orton was off the bed and halfway to the door.

_Say something, you tool! Anything...!_

"Randy, wait..."

Orton paused at the door, his hand turning the knob slightly. He didn't speak, but his body language clearly said 'go on.'

"I really don't know you that well, but it seems to be that the last thing you want is to be alone right now." Evan tried to choose the right words, something that would make Randy realize that what he wanted wasn't a one-night stand, but possibly an actual relationship. "And, uh, well, Puppy is lonely too."

_Nice move, dumbass! Talk about jailbait... sheesh!_

"You are?" Now Randy's eyes gleamed with something other than his tears.

"But I am not gonna be your fuck-puppy..." _Make up your mind, dumbo. You HATE that nickname, remember! _ "If this is going to work, and I know this is going to be difficult for you to comprehend, then you're gonna have to love all of me, not just certain parts."

Randy bobbed his head; immediately X-rated images went to Evan's mind, leading to his jeans re-tightening.

"Then for tonight you can call it Puppy love..." Evan couldn't carry a tune for shit, but for those three seconds, it didn't matter one iota. But he still wasn't going to let Orton dominate him and he proved it rather quickly. Orton attempted to tackle Evan onto the bed, but he countered and even though Randy was nine inches taller and outweighed him by almost 60 pounds, Evan T-bone suplexed the Viper onto the bed and quickly jumped on top of him.

_And they called it puppy love_

_Oh i guess they'll never know_

_How a young heart really feels..._

When he heard those words rolling softly off Randy's lips, Evan stopped in mid earlobe-nibble. He hated that song. Not quite as much as whomever had first come up with the 'puppy' nickname, but that was still enough.

"Randy, please." Evan whispered, nipping at the fleshly part of his ear. "It really turns me off."

Randy immediately stopped singing. "Sorry... can't have that." He gasped

Evan resumed licking at Orton's earlobe once the promise had been made. But that soon got boring and he started tracing long lines across his jaw.

Randy inhaled sharply; his own jeans were also becoming uncomfortable and he needed to get out of them quickly. He hoped that Evan felt the same way.

"More please Evvie?" Randy whispered huskily. "I need it bad."

"So do I." Evan answered, pulling Randy onto his side and sliding both his hands under his short. "I want you to be mine... all mine." Without giving Randy time to answer, Evan pulled him in for their first real kiss. He licked across Randy's mouth, hoping that Orton would take it further. He was not disappointed. Randy met Evan's tongue with his own and it was soon an all out tongue-war. The taste of the booze in Randy's mouth was enticing enough that Evan wanted more and more of it, but Randy's hands had minds of their own.

Breaking the kiss only long enough to moan "My turn.", Randy quickly worked Evan out of his shirt, pants, and underwear, leaving him totally vulnerable in only his socks. Randy paused for a moment to study the naked man beneath him, smiling at what he saw.

"You like?" Evan said, shivering ever so slightly.

"I love." Randy resumed exploration of Evan's body with his hands, his lips, his tongue... almost any part of him, actually.

Evan lay back and let Randy work his magic. He was still painfully erect; in fact, he'd had a boner since the elevator and it had never completely softened, even when Randy had been spilling his guts earlier. He was afraid that he might not last.

"Randy, you gotta slow down or I'll..."

Orton looked up and winked. "Don't worry Evan. There'll be plenty of time for me later. This is all about you." He immediately moved from tracing the outlines of his abs with his tongue to tracing the veins in his cock.

_Baseball scores, old nuns, dead puppies, two old ladies shaving their legs..._

"John Cena, Justin Gabriel, Zack Ryder, Cody Rhodes..." Randy whispered, now using his hand to stimulate Evan. "Dolph Ziggler, Kofi Kingston..."

_Oh God, Randy... _

Evan arched his thighs, and with a puppy-like growl, emptied himself into Randy's hand. Randy wasn't satisfied, though. He stroked Evan until his hand was pushed away.

"Like you said, there'll be plenty of time later." Evan licked Randy's hand clean. "'Coz I don't plan to let you leave any time soon."

Orton smiled. "I love you Evan."

"I love you too, Randy. Stay the night?"

"Like you have to ask." Randy quickly stripped off his clothes and the pair climbed into the warm bed. The rest of the night was spent in each other's arms, cuddling like new lovers. The first beams of sunlight were just creeping over the horizon when they both finally fell asleep.

...

R.A.W. had just wrapped when Evan and Randy finally made it to the arena. Their absence had been noticed, but no one seemed too eager to mention it. In fact, everyone was staring at the monitors.

"Sorry we're late. We had car trouble and..." Randy was mid-way through the elaborate story he and Evan had worked out on the ride over, but stopped when nobody seemed to be paying attention to them.

"What'd we miss?" Evan asked and immediately wished he hadn't.

Justin Gabriel turned around. "Erik lost."

TO BE CONTINUED

_"Puppy Love" copyright 1960, words and music by Paul Anka._

_Thank-you to smiley1014 for the suggestion for Randy/Evan and thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed this series and made it the first to crack the 10000 views mark._


	23. Mutiny!

Mutiny!

"Well, this fucking sucks." Randy Orton groused, echoing the sentiments of almost everyone in the room. "This really fucking sucks."

"It blows, too, fella." Sheamus answered "Jus' like a bloomin' vacuum cleaner."

"Beats the hell outta me as to why I even got out of bed this mornin'." Alex Shelley grumbled. "The Saints are as much in the unemployment line." His partner Chris Sabin nodded morosely.

"Yup." Tom Hardy sighed "What? At least you two still have jobs." The last comment was directed at brothers Matt and Jeff, who were just shaking their heads in disbelief.

"Could someone please remind me how exactly Erik lost, again?" Evan Bourne asked, and immediately regretted it.

"Oh yeah, I forgot you weren't here... you were busy fuckin' the treat of the week." John Cena answered

"Hey, leave Evvy alone!" Randy rebutted, in hindsight, a bit too quickly as everyone suddenly realized who the 'treat of the week' was.

Cena rolled his eyes at his soon-to-be former best friend. "Fucker kicked Riky's referee in the face, then got his own stooge to make a fast count. I wish there was something we could do."

"There is." A female voice from behind the men piped up. All heads turned. "Well, at least there is something I can do..."

...

"My name is John Lauranaitis and I am the Executive Vice President of Talent Relations... and your NEW General Manager."

Big Johnny paused to let these words sink in to his hostile crowd.

"That's right. Last week, Mr. McMahon defeated your former owner Erik Draven and, in addition to running Smackdown, I now run this show as well. Don't worry, you'll still be treated to the best the WWE has to offer, though with slightly less nudity."

Less nudity did not go over well at all and the crowd began telling Johnny what they really felt.

"The first thing you'll notice is that I have brought back Jerry Lawler and Michael Cole to the commentary position..."

"Smartest thing he's ever done." Cole interjected

"and you'll also noticed that the skanks who used to be, and I use the term very loosely, referees, have all been replaced by competent WWE referees. I feel that this will bring some credibility back to a show that has been totally lacking in it."

The chants of 'asshole' intensified until the arena was literally shaking.

"The next thing I plan to do involves the champions on this show. I will be stripping them of their titles and beginning tonight, holding tournaments to crown new World, United States, and Tag Team champions... but that's not all."

"It damn well is."

Johnny turned to the stage.

"Excuse me?" He addressed the lone female.

"I said it damn well is."

"I don't know who you are, but per Mr. McMahon's orders, I now run this show."

"The hell you do." The woman, still hidden in shadows, folded her arms and glared.

"Listen, Mr. McMahon beat Erik, fairly and honestly I might add..."

The last six words struck a chord with the audience and the 'asshole' chants immediately switched to chants of 'bullshit'.

"Fairly and honestly." John repeated "As such, he now owns the rights to this program and he has put me in charge..."

"I repeat, the hell you do. Would you like me to come down and explain it to you?"

"By all means."

"Alright then." The young lady stepped into the light and the crowd burst into cheers. Even if Johnny Ace had no clue who she was, the audience recognized the statuesque figure of Alexx; Erik's partner in the purchase of RAW. Although she had been absent from television for several months, there was no mistaking who she was. Striding to the ring with purpose, she entered to stare down Lauranaitis.

"Now who are you and what right do you have to come here and interrupt my show?"

"First of all, contrary to what you, your fuck-buddy rapist friend Otunga, that whore Eve, and that senile old fart McMahon think, you do not control this show. Let me give you a history lesson, Johnny Ass. When Mr. Draven and I bought this show back in March of 2010, we each put in fifty percent of the purchase price, making us equal partners." Alexx smirked "So at best, you control half this show."

The crowd mumbled, liking where this was going.

"However, here comes history lesson number two. Erik is not a stupid man, despite what you think. He figured that Vince was going to try something and he was right about that. So, just prior to the match, he sold one percent of his shares in R.A.W., incorporated to me, giving me fifty-one percent of the total and making me majority owner. In short, Mr. McMahon owns squat Johnny." Alexx folded her arms again and waited for the color to return to Johnny's face.

"Not squat, Mr. McMahon still has half-ownership."

"Fourty-nine percent, technically. What that means is, I can override anything to want to do on this show. All those changes you just mentioned... fuck 'em all. No Cole, no Lawler, no dumbass refs who need a blackboard to make a three count, and most of all, you ain't touching a single one of our titles." Alexx's voice got stronger with each statement. "Last, and sure as hell not least, David Otunga is still banned from any arena RAW is performing at."

The crowd clapped loudly, while Johnny tried to say something.

"Don't look so sad, Johnny." Alexx mock-pouted. "If you're really good and do exactly what you're told, I might let you make a match or two sometime. Now security, please escort Mr. Lauranaitis' cadre of cronies, commentators, and cretins out of my building. He can stay... after all he is a minority owner. But as for the rest of you, we got a show to do..."

...

The RAW talent had come to the show expecting the worst, but what they got was anything but. Things were just as they had been under Draven, even down to the post-show after party at a nearby club. There was a lot of dancing, a lot more drinking, and even more Superstars having to be carried back to their hotel rooms by those few who did not drink.

C.M. Punk was obviously one of those few. He'd already seen to it that Randy and Evan, Alex and Chris, and the trio of Hardys had been put into taxis or other means of transport to get back to their rooms. He was hoping to have at least five minutes before his next trip to at least get a Pepsi, but as soon as he stepped back inside, he was summoned to the bar by Alexx.

"Philly-style, I hate to send you back out, but Kofi needs some help." She gestured toward a very lively group in the corner that included Alex Riley, Rey Mysterio, the aforementioned Kofi, and R-Truth, among others.

Phil stared at the group. "He doesn't look that bad to me." He answered, hoping that would buy at least enough time for a drink.

"His Jamaican accent is back." Alexx stated

"Oh." That was not good. "I'll take care of it."

"Thanks. Y'know, I think Erik was wrong about you... you're not a stuck-up, preachy, arrogant, son-of-a-bitch after all." Alexx slapped Phil across the back and before he could come up with a retort, she was gone.

Reminding himself to have a little chat with Erik, if he ever saw him again, Phil headed across the dance floor having to squeeze between several gyrating superstars before he was safe.

"Okay, Kofi, time to go."

"Ah, no, mon. We be jammin'."

_Boss was right. _

"You c'n jam with your friends some other night. The boss says it's time for you to leave... NOW."

Kofi shrugged. "Looks like the fun is over."

"C'mon, Bob Marley, let's book." Even as he said this, Phil was pulling Kofi away from the others. "Now Kofi... by Jeebus, it's not like you're not gonna ever see these guys again." It took several forceful yanks before Kofi was moving on his own. Pushing the drunken African-slash-Jamaican toward the door, he passed another crowd. This one included the boss and she gave him a thumbs-up as he walked by. Phil responded with an eye-roll and then they were both out the door.

"You gonna be alright while I call you a cab?"

"Gotta pee, mon." Kofi answered

"Alleyway." Phil pointed

"Gotta pee, mon." Kofi repeated

"I know... there's an alleyway, go use it." Phil answered

Kofi just stood there, looking blank.

"Ugh..." Phil turned Kofi around and pushed him into the alleyway.

"Gotta pee, mon." Kofi stated for a third time.

_Why me? _Phil propped Kofi against a wall and yanked the younger man's sweat pants and shorts down to his ankles. "If you ask me to hold it for you, I swear I'm gonna start drinking." Phil trotted to the end of the alleyway to wait out Kofi's nature call.

"Thanks, mon..."

Phil waited patiently for Kofi to finish, tapping his foot against the near wall. He kept one eye on the way they had just traveled and the other on the other side of the street. RAW stud or no, Kofi getting caught taking a tinkle would still land both of them in some scalding water.

"_...you're not a stuck-up, preachy, arrogant, son-of-a-bitch after all..."_

Phil's mind went back to Alexx' comment. He flipped open his cell, and stared at it. Not knowing if Draven would ever return, he fought with his mind over whether or not he should make a late-night call to clear the air. Not wanting an argument, he snapped it closed again, before realizing that a whole five minutes had elapsed since he'd left Kofi. Fearing something had happened; after all, it does not take anyone that long to go number one, he walked quickly back into the semi-darkness.

"Kofi? Y'okay?"

All Phil heard was a grunt.

"Kofi?"

Another grunt.

Phil stepped around a discarded oil drum and stopped in his tracks. He'd found Kofi, but he also found him jerking off. That was the grunting he'd heard during his approach.

"Uh, Kofi, I hate to interrupt..."

"Then don't, mon." Kofi turned his head, his eyes half-closed.

"Uh... okay." Phil really had no clue what to do next. The larger part of his brain was telling him to go back to the entrance and wait for Kofi, but there was a smaller portion that was whispering that Kofi hadn't told him to leave, so why not stay and watch the show? He might never have another chance and dammit if Kofi wasn't so out of his mind he probably wouldn't even remember when he woke up to begin with.

"You ever see a dick this big, mon?"

Phil blinked twice. "No; no I haven't." An easy answer. Other than his own, Phil could count on one hand the number of penises he'd seen. The only one that even came close was a photo he'd seen of Orlando Jordan shortly after the revelations about his sexuality had become public.

"It's nice..." Kofi stroked himself again, sighly softly. "Soooo nice... wanna touch it?"

_Go ahead... you know you want to... _Damn if that smaller part of his brain wasn't butting in where it wasn't wanted and dammit further that it was also causing his pants to get a little too tight for their own good.

"What?" Phil asked. Maybe he'd misheard Kofi. Yeah, that was it. Kofi had said something about the weather or...

"You wanna touch it?" Kofi turned to face Phil, his hard phallus pointing straight at him. "It's okay if you do, mon. I don't mind."

"Kofi, I..." Phil stuttered

Apparently Kofi sensed that Phil wanted to even before Phil knew for sure. While he was trying to wrap his mind around getting the hell out of dodge and back to the hotel, with or without his charge, Kofi grabbed his hand and brought it to contact his hot flesh.

Kofi moaned softly at the first touch, as did Phil.

"Yeah, mon. Jerk me off, mon?" Kofi's eyes, glazed with alcohol and lust, told Phil everything he needed to know and to his own surprise, Phil was okay with it.

Punk wrapped his fist around the solid length and started to stroke it. Watching the dark skin pull back from the tip, revealing a shiny pink head, then cover it up again was making his own dick stiffen. He was hoping that Kofi would offer to get him off as well, but it looked like the encounter wouldn't last long enough for him to ask.

Kofi was panting loudly, and despite the slight chill in the air, had started to sweat profusely. Drops of moisture were trickling down his face, and one or two dripped onto his dick, adding more lube to the massive amounts of precum that had already flowed.

"Oh mon, I think I'm comin'." Kofi barely had time to finish his sentence when Phil felt Kofi's orgasm race through both of them, coating his hand with cum, and sending some of it splattering against the other side of the alley.

"I'll say." Phil continued to stroke Kofi, who seemed to shoot and shoot and shoot. It looked like he might take hours for him to finish releasing, but unfortunately their fun was about to be spoiled.

"Hold it right there... POLICE!"

Two bright lights bathed both of them within seconds. There wasn't even enough time for Phil to take his hand off Kofi's cock, much less make it appear that something other than a hand job had just occurred.

"You're both under arrest for public indecency."

The officers at least allowed Kofi to pull up his pants before they were both escorted to nearby patrol cars. Just before the engines started, taking them away, both Phil and Kofi heard laughter.

"Thank-you for the tip Mr. Lauranaitis. We'll take it from here."

The cars pulled away and Johnny turned to Otunga and Eve. "That is how you do it. If we can't control the show, we'll make sure there is no show to control."

"Smart move Johnny." Otunga sipped his coffee.

"Now let's get out of here." Lauranaitis led the two to his waiting limo. "This is only the beginning."

TBC

_Suggestions for pairings are now being accepted again. _


	24. Defection, Part One

Defection, Part One (for megsjedi)

As soon as Alexx got word that Punk and Kofi had been arrested, she did two things. The first was to obviously bail them out of jail. The second was to call a talent meeting for nine a.m. the next morning. Normally, talent meetings at that hour of the day were more of a Draven thing, but the second Phil explained how they'd been 'set up', Alexx was determined to never allow this to happen again.

"Now that's everyone's here, I'll get to the point. We had a little incident last night and while I'm usually not one to point blame, I will warn you that things are going to be a little different now that Johnny does have some legal claim to this program. This is more of a warning to everyone. I am aware of your off-camera relationships and I really could care less, but please let's not give TMZ or John Lauranaitis any more ammunition, okay."

Several heads, especially those of the two who were at the heart of the controversy, nodded.

"Since I got you all here, we might as well go over next week's show. Firstly, Punk, you'll be defending the..."

"Sorry I'm late. I just heard about the meeting from Eve." Johnny and Eve walked in, looking like they owned the place. Alexx had been successful in getting an injunction barring Otunga from the premises, but as for the other two... not so much.

The roster to a man, groaned. Several off-colour comments were muttered under breaths and several birds were flipped as Lauranaitis walked up front.

"This meeting does not concern you." Alexx said coldly. "This is strictly production."

"As a representative of the minority owner Mr. McMahon, I have every right to be here. Frankly, seeing the way you control your talent, I am also here to protect his investment. But we'll talk about that later. What I am here to say is that I have decided to bring in a few people from Smackdown to give the show a broader appeal."

"Broader appeal?" Zack whispered to Christian. "He wants more than sick pervs watching the show?"

Christian shrugged, too busy sexting a dude he met at a house show the previous week to reply.

"Therefore, please welcome the newest members of the R.A.W. roster..."

The R.A.W. athletes waited impatiently.

"Excuse me!"

Collective groans.

"I said excuse me!"

Vickie, Dolph, and Jack Swagger made an entrance. Say one thing about Vickie, she lived her gimmick.

Alexx looked like she wanted to tear Lauranaitis' head off and shit down his neck. She barely controlled her anger while concluding the meeting.

"And Johnny, my office... NOW!" Without even saying that the meeting was over, she stormed from the room. Johnny followed.

The room broke for coffee and donuts. While almost everyone gave the newest trio a wide berth, there were a couple brave souls who were more accommodating. Ryder immediately went over to Ziggler and the two of them starting joking over Zack's Internet championship. Vickie and Eve, as the only two females in the room, started bonding. That left Swagger, looking like a blond dufus.

"Look at that tool." Jeff snickered "All alone, wiff no one to love." He was still a little drunk from the bar.

"Not nice, Jeffro." Matt scolded him. "How you would feel if you were suddenly sent to Smackdown?"

"No!" Jeff made a horrified "o" with his mouth. "Don't even joke about that!"

"Ease up on the tool." Tom sipped his coffee. "Jake's really a nice guy."

"And how would you know, big brother?" Jeff looked suspiciously at Tom, then over to Jack.

"We worked a couple matches in OVW." Tom shrugged. "Anyway, I'm gonna go talk to him. You two can go hang with Sabin and Shelley if you want."

"What's gotten into him?" Matt demanded, watching the back of Tom.

"I think he likes him." Jeff giggled again.

"Gross, Jeffro." Matt playfully slapped his baby brother on the back of the head. "Let's find the Guns. I really don't wanna see Tom get power bombed on the floor."

The longer Swagger stood in the corner by himself, the more self-conscious he became. He was two steps from going over to the hotel bar for a morning buzz when he saw the one person who hated him less than everyone else approach. At least he hoped he was coming over to talk.

"So, Johnny Ass sent you to the dark side, eh?" Hardy looked at Jack, a hint of sympathy in his eyes.

"Yeah. Sucks to be me, huh?" Jake answered

"Don't worry about it. Not everyone here hates your guts. I would like to know what the hell you did with your hair? You look corporate."

Jack ran his fingers through the mop he'd been coerced into growing out. "Vickie said I should stop looking like a teenager."

"If Vickie told you to wrestle naked, would you?"

The look Jack gave Tom told him that he probably would.

"Dude, she's old enough to be your mom." Tom sighed "But that's none of my business."

"Dude, I really don't want to be here." Jack was being blunt about it. "You think your boss would send me back to Smackdown?"

"Not as long as Johnny is around. He's trying to show that he does have clout." Tom answered wistfully.

Jack looked at the floor, tracing strange patterns in the carpet with the toe of his loafers. Not what he'd wanted to hear, for obvious reasons.

"Dude, since by your own admission, you don't have a lot of friends here, let me make the offer. Come back to my room, we'll order lunch and we can talk. If you want some honest answers about what really goes on, I'm probably the only one who'll give them to you right now."

"Just talk, right?"

"Just talk." Tom stated "Contrary to what you see on air, we're not all horndogs who'll jump anything with a pulse the first chance we get."

"Sure... what have I got to lose, right?" Jack forced himself to smile.

"Absolutely..." Tom swigged down the last of his coffee and tossed the cup at the closest trash can. It missed, but he didn't care. "now let's get the fuck out of here."

...

"So if I don't want to show off my...self, I won't have to?" No sooner had the food been eaten, then Jake started talking.

"Hell no, dude. There are a few guys on the roster who don't do that sorta shit, and then there people like Cena, Orton, Sheamus, Jeff, who love it. Cena's trying to get Sheamus to put his title up in a loser jerks off match." Tom sipped at his fifth cup of coffee; the caffeine had cleared his head immensely.

Swagger nodded with relief.

"But can I be honest with you, Jake? You're one of the better looking dudes on the roster. I don't see why you wouldn't jump at the chance to show yourself off. Considering that teal singlet makes you look like a synchronized swimmer..."

Jake shrugged. He preferred the black and maroon to the teal, but again what Vickie wants, Vickie gets.

"I'm just laying the cards on the table for you. I'm not saying you have to go out there and do anything you're uncomfortable with. That's not the style around here. It's just something worth considering... unless you're hung like a cheerio."

Unintentionally, Swagger blushed. Tom saw it and immediately felt guilty. "Sorry dude, let's change the topic. You got any questions about the brand that don't involve sex?"

"Welll, no, but do you really think I'm hung like that?"

"Dude, I was just making the point that it doesn't matter what your reason is, if you don't want little Jake to be shown, then he won't." Tom replied

"I think I'm hung pretty well." Jake added, stretching his long legs. "That's what Vickie and Dolph say, at least."

"Oh really... Vickie AND Dolph?" Tom cracked his knuckles loudly. "Don't take this the wrong way. Dolph I can see, but Vickie? WTF, man?"

Jack sheepishly scratched the back of his neck. "I know, she's old enough to be my mom. It was after Wrestlemania, we were all drunk and things happened."

"Jake, please. I just ate and Vickie and sex in the same thought is doing nothing for my digestion." Tom grabbed his stomach in mock-nausea. "Now Dolph is surprising."

"Never would've figured him to play for the same team either." Jake sighed "But the things he did... wow. I mean, I've been with a lot of girls, and very few of them could get me that hard that fast. That mouth of his could give your brother a run for his money, from what the fan sites have to say."

"That would be an interesting wager." Tom scratched at one of his upper teeth. "I'd take Jeff any day."

"Don't count on it. I mean, one minute we're talking about our Wrestlemania moments and the next, he's on his knees in front of me unzipping my jeans." An extra breath out at the end of that sentence and Tom knew exactly where this was going.

"I thought it was some weird alcohol-fueled dream, until I felt his fingers on my cock. He had the softest touch imaginable." Jake sighed again, and gave his own groin a squeeze as if to bring those feelings back.

"We are talking about the same Dolph Ziggler, right? The one who busted my cheek bone the last time I appeared on Smackdown." Tom rubbed the small indentation under his left eye; a reminder of the days before RAW had split from WWE entirely.

"Yeah-huh." Jake squeezed his groin again. "Once he got me hard, then his mouth... fuck, man... I damn near came right away. Then he stuck his fingers in my ass and I did. In his mouth, his hair, everywhere you could think of."

Tom smirked. Mentally seeing Mr. Ziggles on his knees, working Swagger's cock and ass was stimulating at the very least. He needed to play it cool for the moment, until he knew for sure which way Swagger was leaning. Tom had kept eyes on Swagger, that was no secret, but after what had happened just the other day involving Kofi and CM Punk... discretion was the key word.

"So why aren't you with Dolphie right now?" Tom queried

"Vickie, duh." Jack responded "Ever since she found out about Dolph's bit of fun, she won't let him out of her sight. For fuck's sake, she waits outside the bathroom for him."

"Bitch has got to loosen the choke chain, dontcha think?" Tom chuckled softly. "On the other hand, I don't know what Johnny was thinking when he brought you along. Could be he's trying to convert y'all back to the straight and narrow?"

"Emphasis on the straight, bro." Jake stretched his legs again. Trying not to notice that the bulge in Jack's jeans was still there, Tom reached for his half-filled cup of coffee.

_Gotta be careful Future... this could be a set-up. Remember Kofi and Phil..._

"I'd almost be tempted to ask if this is another of Johnny's traps, but something tells me you're legit." Tom stared over the rim of his cup for any change in body language. A twitch of the eye, a lick of the lips, something that would give away the fact the Jack was doing Lauranaitis' work. Tom saw nothing. Either Swagger was a real good actor (not likely) or he was interested in having a sexual experience with the eldest of the Hardy trio.

"You've always leveled with me Future, can I be square with you?"

The unusual use of his ring name piqued Tom's alarm bells. "Okay Swagger... talk. Although why we're using ring names at this stage is beyond me."

Jake took a deep breath, looked at the floor, took a second breath, then started to talk.

"Dude, you saved me from making more of an ass of myself after I cashed in the title on Jericho. If you hadn't taken me out for a drinks and basically slapped me across the face, I'd be pulling a Trent Barreta right now."

"So now you think you owe me or something?" Tom was starting to get a little edgy. "Is that it?"

"Dude, Lauranaitis is up to something. I overheard him talking to Vince about a "talent exchange. He's gonna start bringing over guys that your fans don't want to see: Big Show, Mark Henry, Brodus Clay. How do you think that's gonna play out if they start getting naked and shit?"

The mental image of a naked Funkasaurus brought another sharp pain to Tom's stomach.

"I see." Tom tapped his chin. "But that still doesn't explain why you're telling me all this... why not go to the boss?"

"I did. Erik told me to keep in touch. But now that..."

"Alexx is in charge, you're not sure you can trust her?" Tom finished for him. Jake was starting to make a lot more sense than Tom was originally going to give him credit for. "But surely, she's not involved... or is she, do you think?"

"I don't know who to trust, Tommy." Jake answered "You see my problem?"

At first Tom thought Jake was talking about the one between his legs. "I'm not sure what I can do about that problem, but it looks like there is something I can do for ya."

"What?"

Tom didn't reply directly. He simply finished the last swallow of now-cold coffee, set the cup down on a nearby table, and went into the bedroom. If he'd read Swagger correctly, he'd follow. If this was a trap, and the logical part of his brain was still insisting this, then his coworker would run for the hills.

Tom stared at his worn reflection in the mirror above the dresser. Actually, he was only part-staring at it. The dresser was in the perfect spot for him to also see the door, which he had left wide open. He was hoping that a tall, blond drink of water would soon be standing in it and, for this time, he was soon rewarded with just such a vision.

"Tom, are you...?" Swagger stammered

"Does it really matter?" Tom addressed him without turning around. "We've always been friends, and from day one I've suspected you are a helluva lot more than I'll ever be."

"So whaddaya want to do about it?" Jack grinned childishly.

"It depends." Tom rolled his eyes. Even when sporting serious wood, Swagger was still cryptic. "I could send you back to Vickie..."

Swagger looked ready to bolt at that suggestion.

"Or I could give you a night that you'll never forget." Tom scratched his forehead. "Judging by your pants, you'd prefer that to being a Cougar's lunch."

A nod from the young Oklahoman.

"So you should get your butt over here and kiss me." Tom replied "Either that, or it will be a long night."

Jack did not have to be told twice. In three long strides, he was at the mirror, standing behind the (now?) object of his affections. Tom turned his head to the left, ignoring the pop of his neck muscles as they moved. This put their lips in almost perfect alignment; Jack having to bend down to allow for their difference in height, but their lips were soon fused together erotically.

Neither man tried to be too dominant at first. It was just a nice kiss, but as soon as Tom felt Jack's tongue against his own, his alpha male tendencies took over. It soon turned into a tongue tango that lasted only when Jack broke to get some air.

His eyes half-closed, Jack didn't realize that Tom had reversed their positions and, much like a real tango, was now staring down at him. Neither did he realize that he was being lowered to the carpeted floor until he felt something fuzzy against his neck and lower back.

"Looks like it might be a long night after all." Tom licked the end of Swagger's nose before retaking his mouth in another long kiss.

"Mhmmz." Saying anything else was impossible for Jack.

"Translation?" Tom repositioned himself again. This time it was to get his hands out from under Swagger's wide back and start unbuttoning his shirt.

The cool air-conditioned breeze that blew across his chest once Tom had finished with his shirt immediately hardened his sensitive nipples. Everything, including what he'd just said, was totally forgotten.

"I guess not." Tom went to work suckling on the stiff peaks in the center of Swagger's pecs.

"Mhmmz." Swagger repeated, twining his fingers in Tom's dark locks.

While he worked over that particularly sensitive part of his anatomy, Tom reached down, working Jack's belt off. To his surprise, Swagger stopped him.

"Problem?" Tom raised up.

"Uh..." Unlike moments earlier, now there was hesitation. "Tom, I..."

"You're the one who wanted this, not me." Tom stated "If this is one of Mr. Lauranaitis' tricks, then you better get the hell out of my hotel room!"

"It's..."

Now Tom knew it was a trap. He stood and pulled Jake to his feet by the hair. Despite being shorter, Tom made up for it with guts.

"Swagger, I thought you were better than that." Tom wiped his lips. Remembering who he has been kissing not two minutes ago was giving him a real bad taste in his mouth. "I guess I was wrong... how long have you been lying to me?"

While Tom waited for a reply, he heard what sounded like the word 'abort' coming from Jack's pocket. He wasn't nearly that drunk.

"You don't understand. Johnny said if I didn't..."

"Oh he did, huh? Well, give Johnny a message for me..." Still holding Swagger by the hair, he whipped him against the dresser. He hit it hard enough to dislodge the mirror and send it crashing down on top of his head. It didn't hit his head hard enough to shatter the glass, but Swagger was still stunned.

"Swagger, what are you doing? If the plan has been compromised, get the hell out of there." Jake's pocket squawked. "I repeat..."

The rest of Lauranaitis' words were drowned out by, in no particular order, the sounds of ripping cloth, pulling tape, a human scream, and a fall from twelve floors up.

"So, now that Johnny is out of our hair..." Tom looked at Swagger, who was cringing in pain while holding his quad. "Oh come on... it's not my fault you were dumb enough to tape the recorder and mic to your bare thigh. Just be thankful you shave down there."

Swagger, to his credit, stayed quiet. The only change in him was a grimace when he saw the tape burn on his leg.

Tom squatted over the fallen All-American. "So Jake, this is what's gonna happen. You are gonna tell me exactly what Johnny and Vince's plans are and I mean ALL OF THEM. If you tell me the truth, then I may make you come so hard you'll pass out. If I think you're lying, then there's gonna be a front page story about how a wrestler got real drunk and took a swan dive out of the twelfth story window of a hotel." He smiled "Got me?"

Jack swallowed nervously, then began to talk.

Six hours later, and Tom had still not returned from "lunch", both Matt and Jeff had started to get a little worried, Jeff more than Matt. It had more to do with the unease that was going around the locker room since Lauranaitis had showed up than anything else.

"Matty, Imma worried 'bout Tommers." Jeff had reached a state where he couldn't sit still for longer than thirty seconds.

"Jeffro, Tom can take care of himself. You know that." Matt looked over at his frazzled younger brother.

"But what if..."

"If it'll make you feel better, we can check his room." Matt was willing to do anything for a little peace and quiet, even if it meant facing possible wrath from his older brother. "But he'll just get pissed off at us."

Jeff was already out the door. Sighing loudly, and shrugging to no one in particular, Matt followed. _I hope I don't have to separate them like last time..._

Tom sat patiently as he listened to Swagger talk. Talk he did. He went into so much detail that it wasn't clear to Tommy whether or not he was making up a good story to save his hide or if Johnny Ace was a lot more intelligent than the WWE universe thought.

"I never took those two to be forward thinkers." Tom stated "You swear that you ain't yanking my chain, right?"

"Honest. That's what Johnny told me, Ziggler, and Vickie. "

"What exactly were you three getting out of this deal?" Tom wanted still more information. Even if Swagger was being completely honest, there were still one or two things that didn't quite make sense.

"Huge raises, titles, main-event status... whatever, man. Lauranaitis offered us the world and all we had to do is help him put RAW back where it was before Vince sold it."

That was not the answer Tom wanted, and he knew he had to get to a phone real fast. "I'll be right back. Get the rest of those clothes off by the time I return and maybe I keep my word as well."

While Jack undressed, Tom ran into the other room and grabbed his cell phone from off the dresser. He called first the office, then Alexx's private line, but got no answer either time. Feeling a little panicky, all he could do was leave a message and pray that she got back to him before it was too late. If Swagger was telling the truth, then what had happened to Punk and Kofi, and what was supposed to happen to him was just the beginning...

TO BE CONTINUED...

_Coming up next, on a special three-hour episode of RAW is HBO, the conclusion to Defection..._


	25. Defection, Part Two

Defection, Part 2

_Previously on RAW..._

_Tom squatted over the fallen All-American. "So Jake, this is what's gonna happen. You are gonna tell me exactly what Johnny and Vince's plans are and I mean ALL OF THEM. If you tell me the truth, then I may make you come so hard you'll pass out. If I think you're lying, then there's gonna be a front page story about how a wrestler got real drunk and took a swan dive out of the twelfth story window of a hotel." He smiled "Got me?"_

...

Tom returned from his semi-frantic message-leaving to find a naked Jack Swagger on his bed... and he was most definitely not hung like a cheerio.

"At least you can follow orders." Tom smirked, his eyes roving over Swagger's naked form. "I guess that's why Johnny sent you to trap me."

"I didn't want anything to do with this... it was all Vickie's idea. She was the one who..."

"Swagger, shut up while you're ahead." Tom pulled off his Tapout t-shirt and tossed it toward the growing pile of clothes beside the bed.

Now it was the All-American American's turn to stare. Tom's torso had a little more definition than his own and just staring at it made Jack's cock start to twitch. Tom chuckled at the obvious effect he was having on his younger co-worker.

"So predictable, young grasshopper." Tom shucked his jeans as well and crawled between the spread legs of his partner of the day. "Don't worry though, Future will take good care of you. But first..." Grinning slyly at Jack, the Future leaned away from him.

"But first what?" Swagger whimpered. He was dying for contact.

"Just making sure that this isn't going to come back to bite me in the ass."

When he saw the digital camera, Jack sat up, only to be pushed back down.

"Don't move or you go through the window." Tom growled "I am fucking serious."

"What are you going to do?" Jack asked

"Right now, just adding to my collection of nature shots." Tom said, beginning to snap photographs of the vulnerable man beneath him. "But if Johnny tries anything, I'll post these on Facebook, then send copies of the more explicit ones to your wife. Now don't move. I want to get the light just right."

It seemed like forever before Tom finished photographing him. Jake now had an appreciation for what the divas who had posed for Playboy went through.

"Now that wasn't so bad, was it?" Tom flashed a patronizing smile before tossing the camera aside.

"I guess." Jake was attempting to come up with an excuse just in case his wife did see Tom's handiwork. The drunken fumble excuse for when she'd found out what Dolph had done to him might have to be dusted off for a second time. Considering it hadn't worked the first time, Swagger was determined to keep this indiscretion between he and Tom. (Hopefully!)

"I guess!" Tom rolled his eyes. "Sometimes, you are hopeless, Swagger. I hope you know that.."

"Hey, I'm... oh fuck!" Jake gasped mid-sentence when Tom gently squeezed his balls.

"That's what I thought." Tom grinned, sliding down further to nuzzle against his smoothness. He was careful to avoid the angry red patch that he had caused earlier. Tom was not a total sadist, and for a brief moment wondered how Lauranaitis and Vickie had been able to convince Swagger to go along with their plan. Then he suddenly realized that he honestly didn't care and went back to sucking on Swagger's sack.

"Damn.." Jake sighed. His encounter with Dolph had been incredible, but the feelings Tom was bringing out were making that fade into insignificance in a hurry.

Tom continued to work over that area for several minutes; Tom wanting to plunder him in the way that only he could, but when he had to be patient he could.

"You keep doin' that and you won't have to worry about me." Jake panted

Tom looked up, brow furrowing. "In that case, we better get to the main event." He grabbed Jake's cock, lying stiff against his stomach. It looked fit to burst any second and Tom had quickly realized what Jake was alluding to.

He spat into his hand and stroked Jake's cock a few times to get it ready for what was to come.

"I do have standards, Jake." Tom said "Since I know where that dick of yours has been, all you get is the best fuck of your life."

With two quick movements and a hard thrust, Tom penetrated Swagger.

"Touch me, please?" Jake begged almost immediately.

"Maybe." Tom slammed into Jake, his own balls bouncing off his tight rear cheeks. "If you're a good boy."

Jake whined quietly. He was dying for release, but quickly found out that he might not even need to be touched. Tom seemed to have a knack for hitting his nerve center with precision with every stroke. Jake's vision started to tunnel and he barely registered when Tom did start to jerk him off in time to the violent fucking that he was receiving.

Tom's breathing started to become more pronounced, as did Jake's.

"That's it Swagger." Tom paused to flick his bangs aside with his one free hand. "This is what it feels like to be literally fucked in the ass."

Despite the pleasure overriding most coherent thought, Jake had to chuckle at Tom's pun.

"I'm..."

"I know." Tom finished the sentence for him. "Just hold out a bit longer."

"I don't know if I..." Jack groaned in mid-sentence when Tom hit his pleasure spot again and held the position for an extra second or two.

"Yes you can." Tom whispered sluttily. "Trust me, it'll be worth it."

"Tommy!" Jake's eyes rolled back in his head a moment later and he came hard.

"Close enough." Tom stroked him a few more times before pulling out. "Good job."

"But you didn't..." Jake was surprised

"I know." Tom went over and started rooting through the pile of clothing in the corner. "Sorry about the pants, but you should be able to fit into these." He tossed a fairly clean pair of jeans at Jake. "I'm gonna clean up in the bathroom. By the time I'm done, you better be the fuck out of here and remember what I said."

"I know." Jake looked at the splotches of semen on his chest and wondered how he was going to clean up. "Photos to my wife."

"I'm serious, dude. If I find out you lied to me, you will go through a window as well." Tom glared at his bed partner. "If you have been completely honest with me, then maybe I can help you out as well."

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean." Tom said "Talk to you later."

Leaving Swagger to his own devices, Tom went to take a hot shower and try to get rid of the dirty feeling that Jack had left on him. It wasn't that he was above using a bit of Johnny's own tricks against him, but having to actually have sex with Swagger... that was about as erotic as a fantasy involving Lauranaitis and a steel tipped dildo.

...

Matt and Jeff had spent the better part of the last hour trying to find their brother. It wasn't easy since Tommy liked to travel incognito, even to the point of not telling his own brothers what room or even in what hotel he was staying. They had only just reached the twelfth floor when they saw Swagger leave one of the rooms. Had he not looked like he'd just finished a marathon cardio workout, they might have dismissed it. Oh, the fact that he was wearing different pants also gave it away.

"Matty, look." Jeff pointed

"Shhh..." Matt pushed his brother's hand down. "We don't want him to see us."

"Why?"

"He'll think we're up to something." Matt made as if to go back through the exit door, but it wasn't necessary. Swagger never once looked in their direction. He ran to the elevators and in moments, was gone.

"You think Tommy and Jake did something?" Jeff whispered, giggling childishly.

"I'm betting on it." Matt replied

"Eww... that's icky." Jeff held his throat and mock gagged.

"I agree little bro, but Tommy must've had a good reason." Matt shook his head. Sometimes his brother's actions even amazed him.

"But still... Jackie's about as smexy as Michael Cole." Jeff said

Matt nodded. "I'm sure that Tom'll tell us when the time is right. Until then, I'm going to get drunk and pretend that I know nothing about this."

"I'm with you." Jeff agreed

By the time Tom did step out of the show, Matt and Jeff were each already on their third beers. Memories involving Swagger and sex were soon being drowned by pints of foaming ale.

...

Chris Jericho stepped out of a closed-door meeting with both John Lauranaitis and Alexx and started humming the baseline of "To Kill a Stranger". Shortly after Lauranaitis became the minority owner's rep on R.A.W., Alexx found a loophole that allowed Punk to "invade" Smackdown and win the World Heavyweight Championship.

He actually passed Punk in the corridor and couldn't help but to smile. This immediately sent Punk's guard to full alert. Although he avoided a confrontation in the corridor (which if Johnny and Vince had their way, would be the name of R.A.W.'s next PPV), Phil sensed that something was up. Even before Alexx informed Phil officially, he was outside her office waiting.

"Take a seat."

"Please tell me that I am not jobbing to that Rockstar wannabe." Phil pleaded

"If it were solely up to me, Jericho would spend the last months of his career in squash matches against Brodus Clay." Alexx answered "But for the near future, regrettably, it isn't just up to me."

"But Jericho? C'mon... if they want their precious title back, I'll give it to them, but not him."

"I know you'd rather have the hair on your ass plucked with a pair of dull tweezers, but you gotta understand that concessions will have to be made until the lawyers can bust the contract that got Vince part ownership in R.A.W., incorporated."

Phil groaned.

"He threatened to go public with that thing involving you and Kofi." Alexx added "It was either than or do more damage control."

"Damage control?" Phil repeated the words like they were in a foreign language. "Damage control? Since when do we do damage control? This is RAW is HBO, right? The show where penises and certain bodily fluids thereof are seen on a regular basis?"

"I was thinking more about you than the show. Just before he left, Erik and I talked in depth about what might happen and I know about the verbal agreement the two of you made. I am trying to at least respect that..."

"I appreciate that, but you should also know that I don't job for people just to keep my dignity intact." Phil stated

"And I appreciate that, but it is already set. Jericho goes over tonight." Alexx answered "End of story. I'm sorry. If there was any way that I could change it, I would."

"Okay. I guess I'll have to beat the stuffing out of Sheamus next week then." Phil sighed "Are we through?"

"Yeah." Alexx replied "Uh, Phil... I just thought of something."

"What?" Punk turned back to his boss.

"I only agreed to have you put Y2J over. Since it is a Smackdown title, our rules for the championship to change hands don't apply." Alexx smiled evilly. "If you get my drift."

Phil's eyes lit up. "I assume that the referee will be one of ours?"

"I banned all of Johnny's."

"I'll see you later." Phil was out the door in a flash.

Alexx leaned back in her chair. "Suck on that, Lauranaitis."

...

"Ladies and gentlemen, this contest is scheduled for one fall and it is for the World Heavyweight Championship... introducing first, the challenger. From Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada, weighing 226 pounds, Chris Jericho..."

The arena lights went out, and Y2J's bedazzler jacket took centre stage.

"Worst. Entrance. Evah!" Punk mocked him from the Gorilla position. "Of all the times for the airlines not to lose someone's luggage."

Phil waited for the preening to finish and his own music to hit. Not to anyone's surprise, he received a much warmer reaction.

"His opponent. From Chicago Illinois, weighing 218 pounds, the World Heavyweight Champion... CM Punk!"

Once his own entrance, complete with fake watch staring and yell of "It's clobbering time!", was completed, he waited for Megan to ring the bell.

Chris was used to more detailed instructions from the officials, so when Megan simply said "Get to it!" and motioned for the bell, he was a little thrown off. Even more when Punk threw him from the ring apron to the floor.

"Hey! I wasn't ready!" Chris protested

"Shut the fuck up, Irvine!" Megan shouted "This isn't Smackdown, and I ain't here to coddle you. Unless you want me to end this match right now, get your ass back in the ring and at least make it look good. You can handle that, right?"

Even though he was guaranteed a win, Jericho realized that it was going to be a long night. A very long night.

...

"Don't worry Mr. McMahon, everything is going to plan." From the Skybox in the rafters, Mr. John Lauranaitis, Executive Vice-President of talent relations, Smackdown General Manager, and R.A.W. minority owner's representative (try fitting all that on a business card), was actually enjoying the show.

"I should hope so. I want no more screw-ups." The specific screw-up that Vince was referring to could be one of many. The fact that CM Punk had Smackdown's title, or the one that forced Vince to accept a minority ownership in R.A.W. inc, or it could be any number of other things.

"Trust me. I've got it under control."

From one of the nearby seats, Eve looked up in disbelief. From what she'd heard, nothing was going to plan. Swagger had not returned since 'disappearing' with Tom Hardy earlier in the day, not to mention that the last conversation between Johnny and Jack had been garbled. She was, unlike her boss, concerned.

"I'll talk to you after the show, Mr. McMahon." Johnny hung up the phone and reached for the cheese tray.

"Under control?" Eve repeated "Does 'under control' mean something different to you than it does to the rest of the civilized world? I mean..."

"Eve, there is nothing for you to worry about. I trust that Swagger got the job done and once Smackdown regains it's championship belt, then Vince and I will be able to put phase three of our plan into action." Lauranaitis looked very smug indeed.

"What exactly is phase three?" Eve inquired

"You will be told when the time is right. Not before." John scolded her. "Let's just sit back and enjoy the match. Cheese?"

"No thanks." Eve waved it off. Her stomach was telling her that not only were there things to worry about, but she might want to rethink her recent career choices.

...

In the ring, Jericho and Punk were having a very hard-hitting match. Early on, Chris realized that it was going to be a long night and he was right. Megan, the senior referee, didn't seem to be too interested in enforcing any of the rules, especially when Punk was the only bending, breaking, and something even shattering them. She did express a mild interest when Chris tried underhanded tactics, but only that.

Punk went for his knee in the corner, but Chris was waiting and caught him in the codebreaker. Punk flopped dead center and Jericho jumped on him, twisting him up in the Walls of Jericho.

Phil screamed, and Megan now seemed interested.

"You wanna end this?"

"No!" Phil screamed

"Okies, cool. Let me know if you change your mind. I'll be at the timekeeper's table having a drink."

Jericho did a double-take when he realized she wasn't kidding.

"Get back here and do your job!" He shouted

Megan was either pretending not to hear him, or not caring if she had. She left the ring, grabbed several small bottles from under the table and starting mixing.

"What the fuck...?" Chris mouthed and followed her out. "Are you serious?"

Megan smiled sweetly and continued to play bartender. "Nothing much was happening and I was getting thirsty. Refereeing is hard work."

"I'll just bet."

"Strawberry daiquiri... you want one?" She offered "I'd ask your opponent, but everyone knows Phil doesn't drink... except you, of course."

"A strawberry daiquiri... now I know you're full of it."

"Suit yourself." Megan reached under the table again and produced a small blender as well as a small cooler full of ice. "You might want to get back in the ring. While you've been getting in my face, I have been counting."

"Yeah right. You're so full of it, your nose is browner than the Rock after a visit to the tanning salon."

"Seven... eight..." Megan counted, throwing ice cubes into the blender. Whether Chris got the symbolism, or he was just trying to look less the assclown; either way, he got back into the ring. His little convo with the ref had given Phil enough time to make a smallish recovery and the two got back to business.

...

"Anyone seen Hardy?" Alexx stuck her head out of the office, yelling at the top of her lungs?

"Matt or Jeff?" Christian looked up from his Blackberry.

"The smart one... Tom." Alexx shouted back

"Haven't seen him since, well, the staff meeting. He was talking to Swagger, last time I saw him..."

"I know that already!" She had already heard his message and was hoping to have a face-to-face with her superstar.

"Then I dunno what to tell ya... whaddaya think of this guy?" Christian showed her the picture of his latest.

"Not bad... I didn't know you were into reality stars." Alexx recognized the face, et cetera.

"How did you...?"

"Big scandal. Apparently he was doing a jerkoff video for some girl and she posted a few pix on the 'net." Alexx shrugged "He still looks as good as he did on the Amazing Race though."

Christian's jaw dropped. Obviously their relationship hadn't gotten to the 'tell your new beau about anything stupid you've done recently' stage.

"Anyway, if you see Tom, send him to my office." Alexx shrugged again.

Christian nodded.

"And don't worry. You still have exceptional taste in men."

**To Be Continued**

_Up next, you won't believe what happened after the match! By request for coleypunk-y2j_


	26. Defection, Part Three

Defection, Part 3

"One... two..." Megan counted for the tenth time. She was really getting irritated at both Punk and Jericho. Neither man had been able to win and the repeated near-falls was making it almost impossible for her to get to her extra-large daiquiri that sat untouched at the timekeeper's table.

"One... two... unghh!" Make that eleven.

Punk looked up at the referee as if to say 'what do you want me to do?'

Megan glared at him.

"Tell him to finish the match... now!" A familiar voice in her ear rang out.

Megan waited until she could catch Punk's eye without Jericho noticing. She nodded to him, and he nodded back.

"Rope break." She called

"What?" Jericho demanded "He was nowhere close."

"I said rope break." Megan repeated. "One... two... three... four..."

"Fine." Chris let CM out of the hold. "Happy?"

"Ecstatic." Megan replied "How 'bout you?"

Chris rolled his eyes.

While they were talking, Punk, following Alexx's instructions, had gone out of the ring to find something with which he could disqualify himself.

"This'll do nicely." He thought, grabbing a nearby chair.

Sliding back into the ring with his new weapon, he lined the seat up with Jericho's broad back and swung.

CRACK!

Jericho screamed in pain and fell to his knees. Another shot to the back and he fell onto his stomach. A third one across the shoulder blades made his point.

Megan smiled and called for the bell.

"The winner of the bout as a result of a disqualification... Chris Jericho."

The audience booed.

"However, due to this being a Smackdown title match, the champion is still CM Punk."

The boos turned to applause and cheers.

"Cult of Personality" started to play, but was very quickly interrupted by another familiar, but less adored, tune.

"My name is..."

"Who gave that ass wipe air time?" Alexx shouted. Fearing the worst, she headed for the gorilla position.

"I would just like to make a quick announcement." Lauranaitis had very quickly gone through his spiel of who he was, what he did, and who we worked for. "On behalf of minority owner Vince McMahon, I wish to inform you all that R.A.W. has acquired the following talent: Dolph Ziggler, Vickie Guerrero, and Jack Swagger. In exchange, I wish to present the newest member of the Smackdown Roster... CM Punk!"

The reactions of the audience could be summed up like so: "What the fuck?"

"Hang on a minute, Johnny." Alexx ran on stage, a live mic in her hand. "Just what the hell do you think you're doing?"

John smiled. "I figured you might try something like this. Have your man get himself disqualified to keep the Smackdown title in your greedy little hands."

Alexx shrugged like it was no big deal.

"But I didn't realize how blatant you were going to be until a certain member of your roster came to talk to me before the match."

Alexx turned her head slowly to stare toward the ring. Phil was busy admiring his reflection in the title belt.

"What the hell is going on here, Punk?" Alexx demanded

"What?" Punk answered "It's nothing personal. It's just business."

"Just business?" Alexx couldn't believe her ears. "Whatever happened to 'You tried to bury me, Johnny-boy, and if it comes down to working for you or working here... I don't believe I'm saying this, but I'm staying here.'"

Hearing his own words thrown back at him didn't seem to phase Phil. "Like I said, it's just business."

"If that's the way it's gonna be, then forgive me, but this is just business. RAW roster get out here and show your appreciation for everything Phil has done." Alexx shouted

Phil sensed what was to come. Before he could become roadkill to the oncoming big rig that was the entire RAW talent, he sprinted out of the arena by way of the crowd. He made a sharp turn at the concession stands and doubled back toward the one safe haven he thought he had... his tour bus.

He jumped aboard and within seconds of the door closing, there was a pounding of fists upon it. Fearing it was the roster coming to get him, he was reluctant to open the door. Hiding inside the shower, he hoped that whomever it was would quickly hurt his hands and/or go away.

When the pounding didn't subside, Phil got up the nerve to see who it was. It was Jericho, looking pissed off but not looking like he wanted to kill him.

"I know you're in here, Punk!" Chris rattled the frame. "Now open the damn door ass clown before you get us both killed!"

Even though they were now on the same side, so to speak, Phil was hesitant.

"If you don't open this door, I'll tell the guys where to find you!" Chris' threat worked. Phil quickly opened the door.

"Damn man, you sure do know how to turn a crowd." Chris wiped the sweat from his forehead. Like Phil, he was still wearing his ring gear.

"Money talks." Phil shrugged

"But you can't take it with you." Chris gazed around the vehicle. "Nice. Wish the brass would shell out for one of these for me."

"Maybe they figured that you're sick of traveling in buses, being on the road with Fozzy."

"Pfft!" Chris snorted "Lear jets all the way. But it would be nice to have some place I could stretch out my legs from time to time."

"It is nice." Phil agreed. "So are you expecting me to drive you out of danger or was there something else you wanted?"

"Well... it would be a nice thing to do after what you did to me in the ring." Chris answered

"Sorry, I don't run a taxi service." Punk answered

Chris tilted his head. "You know, you are one arrogant son of a bitch. Just because you have the title and Johnny in your back pocket..."

"Save it for someone who gives a rat's ass." Punk interrupted Jericho. "I am so sick of people telling me what to do, what to say, and what kind of person I should be. I am the champion and I deserve respect!"

"It took John Lauranaitis and a fat cheque for you to figure that out, did it?" Jericho retorted "Punk, I guess it's true what I've been saying all along. You are a hypocrite."

"A hypocrite? Me? Look who's talking, Mr. Cowtow-to-the-fans. You can never decide which side of the fence you like so you end up with a picket shoved so far up your ass, that every time you talk, you get a mouthful of slivers."

"At least I'm honest with myself."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Phil barked

"Figure it out, bright guy." Chris answered "Your entire life is a lie. Hell, I don't think you even know the meaning of Straightedge."

"Shut up, Chris." Phil growled

"You know what I think. I think you're just like the rest of the gelatinous tapeworms on the planet. You take what you can get and when that isn't enough, you fall back on your high horse to give yourself an ego boost."

"Shut up, Chris." Phil repeated

"You wanna know something else... everyone on Smackdown knows about you and Kofi."

"I said shut up."

"Did you like it, Phil?" Chris taunted him. "Having a cock in your hand? You probably did. Hell, if those cops hadn't shown up, I'll bet you would've sucked Kofi right off... or would you have taken it up the ass? Huh, you like the backdoor sports, don't ya Philly-style?"

"If you don't shut up, I'll..."

"You'll what, Phillerino?" Chris leaned against a wall, deliberately allowing some of his sweat to rub off on it. "Unlike you, I'm honest with myself. Hell, if you were a little more honest with yourself, I could see us having a decent friendship... or maybe even more than that if you played your cards right."

Was Chris playing with him? Or was this just a trick? Phil had admired Chris from a distance for many years and had gone as far as to sneak into a couple Fozzy concerts. Well, maybe not sneak in. He was sure that the college punks he'd scalped the tickets off of had better times spending his money than they would've at the show. But now...

"What are you saying, Chris?" Phil immediately changed his tone. "That you and me could... y'know... y'know?"

"Sure, I guess."

"But you got..."

"I know." Chris nodded, pausing to wipe some of the sweat from his forehead and transfer it to the back of his trunks. "But it was James Dean who once said that he wasn't going to live his life with one hand tied behind his back and I agree one hundred percent."

Phil swallowed nervously. Even though he kept his bus at a coolish temperature, he could feel a fresh sweat break out all over his skin.

"Chris, I mean I'm flattered but Kofi and me, that was..."

"If you say a mistake, then I am walking off this bus and I swear I will make your life on Smackdown a living hell." Chris sneered "So what is it?" He continued when Phil stopped in mid-word. "Go on, I'm waiting."

_Ah screw it... I got my whole life to do regret... _

Phil did not say another word. In two strides, he crossed the short distance between himself and Jericho and had the older man's blond locks in his hands. Judging by the surprised look on Chris' face, he was not expecting that.

_If he thought that was unexpected..._

Before either man could change their mind, that being more likely in Phil's case, their lips were mashed together. They kissed long, and deep, breathing through their noses only when absolutely necessary. It was one of the most passionate lip locks that Chris had experienced. Even compared to the way his lady kissed him, they was something to be said about having someone return your passion with an equal vigor.

Eventually, they both started to feel weak from lack of oxygen and simultaneously separated.

"Wow!" Phil panted

"Wow? You started it!"

Phil shrugged.

"Better than Kofi?" Chris asked

"What do you mean?" Chris mimicked the shrug.

"I mean I dunno. We never kissed. I just gave him a hand job in an alley, then spent the night in a jail cell." Phil shrugged a second time.

"And...?" Chris smirked

"And nothing. Kofi passed out from all the booze and I spent the night trying to come up with an explanation that would not get us both fired." Phil answered, wondering if they would ever stop this mindless chatter and get back to the serious matters at hand.

"Oh." Chris' smirk disappeared. "No hot and heavy?"

"No hot and heavy." Phil repeated

"Then I guess I'll have to make up for it."

Before Phil could think twice, Chris had him back in his arms, and once more their mouths attacked each other fiercely.

Phil barely realized that while Chris was dominating the kisses, he was also slowly working themselves to the back of Phil's bus... where his bed was located. He got the clue when the backs of his calves banged against the foot board and seconds later, he ended up flat on his back.

"Why, Mr. Brooks, I didn't think you were that forward." Chris joked, pouncing on top of him.

"Chris... wait a sec... I mean... whoa!" Phil was suddenly surprised by two sets of fingers working their way inside his trunks.

"Whoa! You ain't seen nothing yet!" Jericho began another intense tongue battle with Phil. One that not only made him both forget whatever he was about to say and allow Chris' hands to do what Jericho's lust-filled mind was commanding them.

It worked. Phil was so drawn in to the feeling of Chris, that he was totally surprised to feel a sudden draft on his privates.

"Chris, what are you...?" Phil reached for something to cover himself with.

"Just what you want me to do." Chris tossed the tights and underwear aside and stared. "As part of you already knows."

"But..."

"Phil, you may be one of the best promo guys in the biz, but lying on our bed, almost totally naked, with a boner? Even you can't talk your way out of what your body wants." Chris said "And I am the best in the world at what I do."

Figuring he'd said enough, Chris attacked the boner in question. Phil groaned; this is what many of his fantasies about the night with Kofi usually were about.

"Mmm... salty." Chris sucked on the tip of Phil's cock, enjoying the combination of sweat and precum.

"Oh... fuck." Phil hissed, his hands gripping the sides of the bed tightly. "Chris, God..."

"God, huh?" Chris winked "You'll be screaming more than that by the time I'm finished with you."

"Chris, please, don't keep me waiting. I'm rarely patient any other time." Phil pleaded

"If you say so." Chris knelt up and quickly tugged his own ring wear down to his knees. He was already hard and his penis pointed at Phil. "Brace yourself."

"Brace yourself? You're talking to the guy who... holy fuck!"

"Anyone ever told you that you talk too much during sex?" Chris pushed a little further into Phil.

"Chris, I... Jesus Christ on a pony..." Phil grabbed his bed in a death grip.

"Well, you do." Chris proceeded to fuck Phil through the mattress. The bed creaked noisily with each thrust, interrupted only by either a loud grunt from Chris or a shout of pleasure from Phil.

"Yes, Chris... oh God, please... fuck me harder." Phil arched his back, allowing Chris to plow deeper inside him.

Chris only grunted in reply, but increased the pace at which he was giving Phil the business.

"Not much longer," Chris gasped "you're choking my dick, bud."

"Yessss." Phil hissed through his teeth. "Make me cum, Ayatollah of fuck-my-holah."

"Won't. Be. A. Problem." Chris gritted his teeth and pushed in balls-deep. "I just hope I can last as long." He grabbed Phil and started stroking him even faster than he was currently pumping into him.

"Yeah? Cool..." Phil's eyes rolled back in his head and Chris' hand immediately felt slick. He finished Phil off with several quick strokes, then with a loud sigh, emptied himself inside his partner's willing backside.

"Wow." Chris collapsed next to Phil, absently cleaning his hand on the sheets. "That was incredible."

"I know." Phil wiped a trickled of sweat from his forehead.

They lay in silence for several minutes before either of them spoke.

"Phil, I hope you're not having any regrets about this." Chris sighed

"Regrets?" Phil turned his head. "Maybe one or two."

"Like what? I mean, this isn't gonna get back to Johnny, is it?" Chris was suddenly concerned that he may have ruined a career in ten minutes.

"Johnny? Fuck him. I just regret that we never did this a long time ago." Phil leaned over and kissed Chris on the nose.

"Really? You think maybe..."

"Maybe? No maybe about it." Phil interrupted "Once we get to Smackdown, we'll... do you smell that?"

"Smell what?" Chris asked, wrinkling his nose.

"It smells like..."

Their world went black.

TBC

_Only way I could end this and still be able to look at myself in the morning._


	27. Ultimatum, Part One

This chapter is for TheGirlInThePinkScarf... I hope the amount of smex meets with your approval.

Courtesy the Austin Villager

August 22, 2012

"Police are still combing the parking area of the University of Texas at Austin's Frank Irwin center for clues following a mysterious fire Monday night that has left two professional wrestlers with life-threatening injuries. According to a police spokesperson, the fire started some time around ten-thirty p.m., during a live show of the Risque Association of Wrestling (R.A.W. for short). While the cause of the fire that left both Christopher Keith Irvine (ring name: Chris Jericho) and Philip Jack Brooks (ring name: CM Punk) with second and third degree burns over large parts of their bodies is still being investigated, police have not ruled out arson.

"Anyone with any information is asked to contact the Austin Police Department Immediately."

...

"Any questions?" Johnny Ace demanded "Or should I say, Is there anyone who wishes to speak up?"

The entire R.A.W. roster sat silently. Not a single one of them was all too happy about the events of the past 48 hours. It wasn't the fire that was the problem, although names were already being thrown about the locker room as to possible suspects. It was that they had been literally held prisoner during interviews by the local police force.

"Fuck this." Cooper stood

"Sit your ass down!" Johnny barked "We are not finished here!"

"Actually, they are Johnny." Alexx interjected "I just got off the phone with the officer in charge and he said that there is no evidence at present to hold any of my guys."

A collective gasp of relief.

"You're all free to go. I just hope that my faith in you will not be unwarranted." Alexx stated "I'll see you all in Houston tomorrow night. Johnny, my office now!"

The wrestlers, referees, and other staff filed out.

"Y'know, this used to be a fun place to work." Cena lamented

"Used ta be? Whaddaya mean, fella?" Sheamus had overheard the former champion's comment.

"Ever since Lauranaitis showed up, things have, pardon my french, sucked balls." John quickly looked around, but Johnny was already out of earshot. "He's stickin' his ugly face where it don't belong, trading people when he wants..."

"For once, I agree with you." Both members of the Murder City Saints stepped into the conversation. "This is way too much like TNA."

"Before or after Bischoff and Hogan showed up?" Cena retorted

"All of the above." Shelley stated "We're glad to be away from those two, but right now..."

John nodded his assertion, knowing exactly what he meant.

"I know that look. Ya got any ideas, mate?" Sheamus asked

"One." Cena answered "But I don't want it getting around."

"Spill it, b'y. We'll keep our gobs shut, won't we lads?"

Both Saints nodded.

"It should be obvious." John lowered his voice, even though they were the only four guys still in the room. "We need to find a way to get Erik back."

...

"...I don't know what Mr. McMahon lets you get away with, but the shit has to stop hitting the fan... effective immediately!" Alexx' voice was starting to show the effects of yelling non-stop.

"Might I remind you..."

"If you remind me one more time, I will tell the police that you've acted suspiciously ever since the fire. They haven't talked to me yet. Now sit down and s-t-f-u!"

Swallowing loudly, Lauranaitis did as he was told.

"You can have Punk, when he recovers, but I want total control of the R.A.W." Alexx folded her arms.

"Like Vince is going to agree to that." Johnny also crossed his arms.

"He doesn't have to. You're supposed to be his representative here."

"What is your proposition?"

"One match." Alexx leaned forward. "Anyone from WWE versus anyone from RAW. No DQ, no countout, no interference. If he wins, I sign my share of RAW over to him. If I win, Erik's share comes back to me. What do you say?"

"I'll have to talk to..."

"No you don't." Alexx leaned over her desk. "If you have the power to hornswoggle me out of Punk, then you can damn sure agree to a match. Do you have the sack to put McMahon's money where your big mouth is?"

"You're on." Johnny blurted out. "Just don't cry when I bring in the Big Show to wipe the floor with the best you got."

"I expected that." Alexx smiled "See you next week."

...

"Are you gonna join us for dinner after the show?" Matt yelled across the hotel room.

"Not tonight, Matty. Imma tired." Jeff shouted back.

Matt looked at Tom, who shrugged. "You feelin' okay, little man?" Tom asked

"I fine." Jeff said "I just had bad sleeps."

"Okay. We'll see you at the arena then."

"Okies." Though his brothers couldn't see, he still waved bye-bye. He felt a little guilty about lying to his family, but he had just discovered a wrestling game on facebook and was trying to win enough coins to buy everything he needed to make a replica of himself. Ironically, in his first match, he had faced someone who claimed to be "The Future" Tom Hardy. He'd lost, but it only made his determination rise.

After several more defeats to the imposter, Jeff was fed up. He angrily threw his mouse across the room and plopped onto the bed, narrowly missing an already-dozing Bunny. Even though there was still sunlight coursing through the open curtains, Jeff was also asleep within minutes.

...

"You need some help, Jeff?" Phil's voice had a patronizing tone to it.

Jeff glared at him. "I am fine." The six-man tag he'd recently concluded was the cause of most of his problems, specifically a badly timed Swanton on Chris Sabin while he was trying to pin Tom.

"Whatever." Phil snorted, like he was saying "I told you so" without actually saying it. "I'm just trying not to be, what's the term you use, a 'grouchy-pants'?"

Normally, someone else using that expression would make Jeff smile, at least. But his back was hurting way too much to care. He continued to struggle with his ring boots, biting on his lower lip to take his mind off the pain.

"If you don't hurry up, they'll be taping next week's show and you'll still be trying to get your boots off." Phil said

"You don't hafta stay." Jeff mumbled "I don't need no babysitter."

"I promised Matt I would get you to the airport." Phil replied "After your history with lateness, it was either that or he was going to make you travel baggage."

Jeff stuck out his tongue.

"I didn't know your tongue was pierced." Phil noticed the stud.

"Just got it." Jeff replied proudly. "But don't tell anyone."

"Not even...?"

"Especially." Jeff stated. "Matty 'n Tommers already treat me like a kid half the time. I don't wanna hear another lecture."

Phil shrugged. "I think by now they'd realize that you don't listen to people very well."

"I do too." With a loud grunt, Jeff finally got his left boot off. "Stupid boots." He muttered "Stupid, stupid, stupid."

Phil rolled his eyes at the childish gesture. "Lie back." He ordered "I am not going to miss my flight because you're being a stupid-head."

"I am not!" Jeff pouted

"Lie back." Phil repeated. "Fine, then don't whine about your back." He grabbed Jeff's right leg and pulled. Jeff was almost yanked right off the changing bench.

"Hey, I don't need you to... whoa!"

"You better hold on!" Phil continued to tug. Eventually the boot came off with a loud popping sound. The boot went flying one way, and Jeff went the other. He hit the floor with a wet smack.

"Owie!" He rubbed his bottom. "You're a meanie!"

"So sue me." Phil retrieved the boot and threw it toward Jeff. "Now finish getting changed and get cleaned up. I'll meet you in the parking lot."

Jeff blew a raspberry at Punk, who merely raised an eyebrow.

"If you hurry, I'll let you blow something else."

Jeff's mouth dropped in a big "O". Punk laughed, then was out the door.

Jeff rushed through his shower, then dressed twice as fast, and sprinted out to the parking lot. He quickly saw Phil's tour bus parked invitingly off to one side, the door standing open. He hesitated for only a moment, then ran aboard. He did not immediately see Punk, but that didn't mean anything, particularly when he saw the curtain that separated the sleeping quarters move slightly. He tiptoed to the back of the bus and yanked the curtain aside.

"I wasn't sure if you were gonna show, so I started without you. I hope you don't mind." Phil smiled

Jeff's eyes bulged out of the sockets at the scene before him. One naked Punk would've been enough, but one naked, hard Punk was even better. Punk removed his hand from his penis and patted the mattress. "You gonna come over or do I have to do this all by my lonesome?"

When Jeff didn't immediately join him, Phil shrugged and returned to stroking himself. "Oh well," he said, his voice beginning to get huskier, "your loss."

_Dammit..., get over there and show him what you can do! _

This pushed the rational part of Jeff's mind that was trying to analyze just how awkward this was going to make things to one side. In mere moments, Jeff was beside Phil, swatting his hand away like an angry father.

"Bad Punkers! No touch!" He scolded him.

Phil looked up at Jeff, amused. "Aw..." He whined softly.

Jeff slid down the mattress to get in a better position. "But Imma 'llowed to." He teased Phil's cock with his fingers, sending spasms through his entire body.

"Stop that... it tickles." Phil but down oh his arm to stifle the giggles that were escaping him.

"Nuh-uh." Jeff replied "This is what you wanted, remember?"

"I just wanted to get off... not be attacked by the tickle monster." Phil gasped

"The tickle monster?" Jeff repeated "Now you are gonna get it, Mister!" He jumped on top of Phil, taking turns grinding against his raging erection and tickling his other sensitive spots.

Between the moans and gales of laughter, Phil was soon reduced to a puddle of goo.

"Don't move." Jeff suddenly climbed off. "Or else."

"Or else what?"

"Or Imma gonna tie you up." Jeff disrobed quickly, tossing his garments to the floor.

"Ooh... kinky." Phil licked his lips in anticipation.

"You are a perv." Jeff huffed

"But you love it." Phil air-kissed. "If you didn't you wouldn't be the company slut, now would you?"

"Company slut!" Jeff folded his arms and glared at Phil. He had to resist breaking out in laughter. Angry Jeff is no laughing matter, but angry, naked, standing at the side of the bed, Jeff... that was open for discussion.

"Yeah." Phil replied "Don't deny it! You get more action than the entire divas division!"

"Who doesn't... they're a bunch of grouchy-pantses." Jeff continued to huff loudly. "So are you, so unless you want angry Jeff instead of horny Jeff, you better apologize."

"Will not." Phil answered, wondering if angry Jeff might be more exciting.

"Will too!" Jeff demanded

"Make me." Phil stated

"Okies." Jeff leapt at the bed, landing between Phil's spread legs. "You asked for it, mister!" He lifted Phil's legs and slammed into him dry.

"Ow, fuck... Jeff, what the hell?" Phil screamed

"I told you so." Jeff slammed back into Phil, bringing another scream to his lips and tears to his eyes. "Take that! And that! And that!" Each 'that' included another hard thrust. Even though he felt like his insides were tearing themselves apart, Phil started to enjoy it. Especially when Jeff hit his pleasure point... then his eyes rolled back and his head dropped onto the pillow.

"Hey... you're not allowed to enjoy this!" Jeff smacked Phil's stomach.

"Make me not enjoy it!" Phil taunted him. "I dare you!"

"Meanie!" In truth, Jeff had no idea how he was going to accomplish that, so he settled for his original plan which was to fuck Phil through the mattress.

"Slut!" Phil stuck out his tongue. "I'm still loving this!"

Again, Jeff returned the gesture, but continued to pound Mr. Straightedge with everything he had.

"Oh yeah, Jeff... I am soooo loving this!" Phil smiled as wide as possible, knowing that would really get to the youngest of the Hardy trio. "You're gonna make me come, you know that? I'm gonna shoot my load so hard, it'll dent the ceiling."

"Meanie!" Jeff repeated through clenched teeth. "Imma..."

"Give it up, angry Jeff!" Phil cooed "Tell horny Jeff he can come too, if he wants."

Jeff replied with one of the hardest thrusts of their encounter. The pleasure overwhelmed Phil and he shot. While not hard enough to damage the bedroom ceiling, it did feel like something poked his liver.

"Oh God... Jeff, you're..."

"Shut it, Princess Straightedge. I'm not finished yet!" Jeff wiped several drops of sweat from his brow, while continuing to punish Phil's lower entrance.

"Tryin' to prove how much of a slut you're not by not finishing in under two minutes? Like when you were sixteen?"

"How the hell did you..."

"Let's just say that Matt talks in his sleep." Phil's voice cracked as his head bounced off the headboard. "You wanna know what else he said?"

"Shut up... just shut up." Jeff barked, driving into Phil and climaxing seconds later.

"I win, slut." Phil let Jeff collapse beside him. "As I always do."

_"Meanie._" Jeff thought for the fourth time before everything started to drift into darkness.

...

Tom and Matt returned from the show, exhausted from their matches and stuffed from the post-show dinner.

"I hope Alexx bought our story that Jeff was feeling under the weather." Tom whispered "After everything else that's happened, I'm sure having to make last-minute changes did not make her day."

"I don't see you complaining." Matt answered

"I'm supposed to be retired, remember?" Tom quietly dropped on the bed beside Jeff. "You think we should wake him?"

"Something tells me we should let him sleep." Matt pointed to the tent in Jeff's jeans.

Tom looked over and laughed quietly. "Good idea. Skittles'll find out soon enough."

"Can you believe it though? You're fighting Big Show for total control of RAW."

TBC...


	28. Ultimatum, Part Two

"Ladies and Gentlemen, this contest is scheduled for one fall and it is for control of RAW..."

The 43,000-plus fans that had packed the Georgia Dome burst into cheers. After several days of speculation, and attempted legal swerves, the match was on. The match was set to be one on one. No outside interference. No DQ. No count out. This was it, and the crowd sensed it.

"Introducing first, your referee for this match... Cooper Lawson."

After the way that John Lauranaitis had won "control" of RAW (or at least thought he had) several months earlier the news that he agreed with Alexx's choice of referee shocked everyone, even those supposed smarks in the internet wrestling community. But it made sense, given the match stips.

Cooper looked at the capacity crowd, mentally asking himself how many of them he'd have to beat up if he was forced to count Tom down.

"Introducing first, representing John Lauranaitis' stake in the company, he stands seven feet and weighs four hundred fifty pounds... the Big Show."

The crowd immediately voiced their opinions of Big Show. This covered all their bases from a simple "You suck" to more graphic descriptions of what Show, and by association Lauranaitis, did on their off time. Still not sure what an egg whisk and limp celery have to do with it, but whatever.

"And now ladies and gentlemen, here live performing their single "Hangin' on a Heart Attack", please welcome Device!"

(Author's note: due to fanfiction's policy regarding links, I can't post it here. But it is on a certain video/tv site that shall remain nameless...)

"His opponent, representing Alexx's share of RAW. He hails from Waterloo, Ontario, Canada, by way of Cameron, North Carolina. Weighing in at two hundred, forty pounds... he is the self-proclaimed Future of RAW... Tom Hardy!"

(Again, there is an entrance video available on the previously unnamed website. If you would like to see that, or the above video, send me a request and I will link you up.)

Despite Tom having entered almost exclusively to any of Matt and/or Jeff and/or The Hardy Boyz themes, or on rare occasions to "Go Insane", for this battle he reverted to the theme he had used when he was struggling on the ndy circuit. When he first stepped into view, he was with both Matt and Jeff, but after a quick kiss to both of his brothers, he walked solo to the ring and stepped through the ropes while the musical performance was wrapping up.

Johnny stepped out of the ring after a few words in the ear of Show.

Tom went over and had a quick word with Cooper, who had a quick word with Show, who had a quick word with Johnny, who had a hissy fit.

Cooper then had yet another quick word with the ring announcer.

"Just a reminder that there is no outside interference in this match. Therefore John Lauranaitis must return to the backstage area or Big Show will the match."

Both Cooper and Tom waved bye-bye to Johnny. His face the same shade as his red jacket, Lauranaitis reluctantly headed backstage, pausing only to shout at fans who were repeating their earlier comments, which now included a flying helmet, a butter dish, and the Colonel's secret recipe of eleven herbs and spices.

Without a moment's hesitating, Cooper called for the bell. In his mind, the sooner the match ended, the sooner he could make his secret rendezvous.

Tom cocked his head; looking quizzically at Show, it was hard to figure out exactly what was going on the younger man's mind. Did he have an idea to defeat the World's Largest Athlete...

(Note: there are taller and fatter men in sport so why is Show referred to thusly?)

or was he trying to formulate a plea for his job after he lost?

"Fuck it." Tom mouthed and immediately charged from the corner with a pretty powerful clothesline... on anyone else that is. Show laughed, as if to ask "Is this guy for real?" before sending Tom to the canvas with a forearm across the shoulders. While Tom was on his hands and knees, Show dropped an elbow, driving all the air out of his lungs.

Both men now on the mat, or close to it, Show covered Tom. He kicked out before Cooper could even get over to begin his count.

You may want to try something else before you have to begin collecting unemployment insurance...

For once, the little voice in his head made sense to Tom. He rolled toward the ropes, hoping Show wouldn't pursue. Wrong again. Somehow, Show got to his feet before Tom and kicked him out of the ring, using the ropes for leverage. Tom hit the protective mats and grimaced. There was a reason he was semi-retired and that reason was now reasserting itself painfully.

... or spending the rest of your life in a wheelchair.

There were times when Tom wished he could piledrive the voices in his head. This was definitely one of those times. Not being content with stating the obvious, his self-confidence was waning faster than the first time he'd had to strip down in the locker room. And this time, neither Jeff nor Matt was there for protection.

Tom grabbed the closest thing to hand... a metal chair. He jumped back into the ring and swung wildly at Show. Yawning to the crowd Show punched the chair, blocking the blow. Reverb went back into Tom's arms, creating a not pleasant sensation in his wrists and forearms. He dropped the chair.

Fans close to ringside heard him say something that sounded like 'enough of this bullshit', before he finally landed a shot to Big Show. A punch to the jaw made him take a step back. Other than that, he was as solid as ever.

However, Tom's punch did disorient Show for a moment, and Tom used it to his advantage. He dropkicked the big man's left knee. There was an audible pop and Show fell down, clutching his leg.

"The bigger they are..." Tom stomped Big Show's lower leg and knee several times. With each stomp, Show's groans of pain got louder. Tom tried a quick cover and got a one-count before Show flipped him over. Tom jumped right back, this time punching Big Show's knee. The Giant tried several different ways to get Tom to stop. This including yanking on his hair, wrapping his meat hook around the back of his neck, and smacking him across the shoulder blades. Tom felt all of them, the smacks in particular, but his adrenaline kept the punches flying. When he did finally stop, Show's kneecap was visibly discolored and looked separated. However, he did get back to his feet.

But only for a moment. Since he'd finally found a strategy that worked, Tom decided to try it again, but on the other leg. It worked just as well and by the time he finished, Show didn't have a leg to stand on.

Tom covered him.

"One... two..." Barely had the referee made the two, then Show tossed Tom aside for the second time.

Tom ran the ropes and clocked Show with a knee to the temple while he was trying to get to his now-wobbly feet. Show flipped onto his back and Tom, as best he could, big-splashed the Big Show.

"One, two..." The crowd counted along, but Big Show was not. Tom went sailing through the air one more time.

"Stay down!" Tom shouted loud enough for the entire arena to hear. "You hear me... huh, lardass? I said stay the fuck down!" Tom emphasized each word with a punch to a random part of Show's anatomy, finishing with a kick to the groin.

Every male in the audience, as well as one in the ring, groaned loudly.

Show remained on the mat for a moment. Tom stood over him, trying to figure out how he was going to pin the big man, when everything suddenly was thrown out the window. From his lying position, Show still reached up and grabbed Tom by the throat. Using him as a crutch, he ambled upright, then chokeslammed Tom to the canvas, following him down.

Cooper, a little reluctantly, counted. At two-plus, Tom wriggled out from underneath. Eerily similar to something that had happened a quarter of a century earlier, many people including Big Show thought the match was over. It took repeated explanations from Cooper before Show got back to business, but his frustration was clear. He pointed to the stunned Hardy with one hand, while cocking the other one.

The crowd gasped upon seeing the sign for the WMD.

"Get up!" Half of them chanted.

"Stay down!" Came from the other half.

Tom stood, and Show fired. Thankfully, Tom saw the punch a split second before it would land and ducked. Unfortunately, the ref didn't. Cooper went down, out cold. Tom crawled around behind the Big Show and popped him in the happy family. Show went down like a ton of bricks, almost crushing the unconscious referee. Tom covered Big Show, but there was no count. He looked around, confused since he had not seen the WMD connect with the one advantage he did have.

"_Oh Fuck..."_

_..._

"Get another referee out there!" Alexx with her entire roster backstage, was watching the match like it was game seven of the World Series finals in extra innings. "Megan! Get down there!"

"Too late." She replied

"What the... how did he get in here? Somebody do something!" Her chances of winning back RAW dropped when Mike Chioda jumped into the ring and took over officiating.

"Like what? No outside interference, remember..."

"And it's one of HIS refs. We do anything and you're screwed.""

The entire locker room started babbling loudly. This did not help at all.

"Everyone shut it! I'm trying to think!" Alexx quieted the room and stared glumly at the monitor. Maybe divine intervention would enter the fray, but until said act of God occurred, there was nothing to do but wait.

...

Out of the corner of his eye, Tom saw the replacement referee enter the ring. It did not have boobs, so in trouble he knew he was. Or was he?

He took Big Show down with a shoulder tackle, and grabbed his left arm as if he'd displaced it.

"You okay... wanna give up?" Chioda was right on top of him.

"Unghhh..." Tom gritted his teeth, selling his injury as only a Hardy could.

"Is that a yes?"

"Not a chance..." Tom pulled himself into a neutral corner, still shaking his arm.

"There's no shame in quitting due to injury." Was Chioda genuinely interested in his well-being or was he just trying anything he could to get the company back to Johnny? Tom suspected the latter.

"Over your dead body." Tom groaned "I am NOT quitting." The last word came out as more of a snort than a word, but that didn't matter. What mattered was the Big Show, squashed nuts, black and blue knees and all, was upright. He saw his foe draped in the corner, helpless, and he charged. Tom saw him coming and at the last moment, pulled referee Chioda between them. Show avalanched both of them in the corner. The ref took most of the damage, but the wind was still knocked out of Tom and both men crashed to the canvas.

Another chokeslam to follow and Big Show made a cover. Like Tom a few moments ago, there was no one to make a count.

"He bought us time... go!" Alexx shouted

RAW referee Megan ran to the ring. Show was still on top of Tom so she did what she had to do... she began her count.

"One... two... th..." Tom raised his left shoulder off the mat at two and nine-tenths.

Show protested loudly. Megan yawned in his face. "Just fight, okies? I got Daiquiris that need drinking."

Show bellowed and raised his hand for a third choke-slam. He grabbed Tom and raised him high in the air. As Tom was going up, he hooked his right hand in the strap of Show's singlet. He wrapped it first around his fist, then around Show's throat. As he tried to complete the move, the material cut off his air, allowing Tom to break the hold enough to drop to his feet while still having the material wrapped around him.

Big Show's eyes were bulging out of their sockets. Tom twisted one more time and he dropped to his knees. Tom quickly let go and bounced off the mat, trying for his Insanity finisher. But Show wasn't done yet, he caught Tom in a sidewalk slam and dropped his entire weight on top of him. Another cover.

"One... two... thr..." It was even closer.

"Can't you count?" Big Show gasped

Megan looked at him like he was a very large cat who had just done his business on the carpet instead of in the litter box. "Yeah... just not to three." A shrug followed.

By now, Show was totally frustrated. He stepped over the top rope and jumped down beside the announce table. He cleared the monitors, then slammed Tom through it.

Collective groans from the crowd, as well as the backstage crowd.

...

"Imma gonna help!" Jeff made to run down to the ring.

"No Jeffro!" Matt scolded "We interfere and Johnny gets RAW!"

"But he big!" Jeff pointed wildly at the monitor, which now had a very nice picture of Big Show setting up another table in the middle of the ring. "He'll hurt Tommers!"

"I think Tommers is already hurt." Cena pointed out.

Jeff stuck out his tongue at the former champion, but did return to his seat.

"Don't worry... Tom'll figure something out." Matt whispered in his ear. _"I hope."_

...

Once the second table had been assembled, Big Show retrieved his prey from the woodpile that had been the ringside announce table.

"Who's the man now?" He shouted at the crowd, who shouted back more of the business from earlier.

Show laughed loudly, playing off like the fans weren't bothering him. "I'm in control now." Draping Tom over his shoulder, he carried the fallen man into the ring and lay him on the table.

He bounced off the ropes a couple of times, then stopped. The fans who thought he was going to splash the table, Tom, and anything else in the way through the mat were granted a moment's pause.

Until Show repositioned the table and climbed to the top turnbuckle.

"Ohmigodohmigodohmigod..." Everyone held their breath and Show dove onto the table and Tom. Only there was no Tom, just table. He had miraculously rolled off onto the canvas, narrowly escaping Big Show's bulk.

Big Show seemed to be unconscious. Tom crawled over and plopped on top of him.

"One... two..." Still Tom could not keep him down. It seemed that Tom was going to have to knock him out to win, or have Show do something even dumber and save him the trouble.

Tom also voiced his frustrations. He whipped himself off the ropes and dropped a reverse Insanity on Show.

"One... two... Jesus fucking Christ!" The voices in Tom's head chorused when Show again refused to stay down for the desired three count.

The adrenaline was surging, his veins were throbbing, and his head was pounding the anvil chorus, but Tom didn't feel any of it. Even the chokeslam into the announce table was a distant memory. He pulled Big Show to his feet and opened his left hand.

The audience gasped in disbelief.

Tom nodded as if to say 'oh yeah'. Before either the crowd or his own body could talk him out of what he was thinking of doing, he had Big Show in position. With a loud scream, and a heave to match, he somehow got the big man off the ground enough to make his version of the choke slam work.

Show's thud when he hit the mat was almost completely drowned out by the fans. Tom held up his index finger to quiet them, then pulled Show to his feet.

Everyone wondered what Tom was thinking, but when he cinched Show in a front facelock, they knew what was gonna happen. A twist of fate took Show back down and Tom quickly scaled to the top rope. Nodding to the crowd, he flew onto the Big Show, landing the most perfect Swanton bomb in the history of Swanton bombs... no ass over teakettle here, folks!

The crowd was going crazy. Tom covered Show.

Megan started her count and the arena counted along.

"ONE!"

"TWO!"

"THREE!"

Megan called for the bell like she'd won the lottery.

"Ladies and gentlemen," The ring announcer had to shout to be heard. "the winner of this bout Tom Hardy!"

The crowd was even drowning out his entrance music.

"Therefore, RAW is now completely under the control of Alexx!"

Standing over the fallen Big Show, it would be expected that Tom would feel some sort of good feeling about what he'd just done. If not right away, then once the RAW locker room stormed the ring, led by Alexx and his brothers. But he didn't.

There was something missing and until Tom could figure out how to get that missing piece back in his life, celebrating was not high on his list. Not now, but soon. Very soon.

THE END

_Coming soon, there's a new old face in the game and he's got his sights set on some people with the last name Hardy... for Taeliaangel!_


	29. A Mattitude Follower or just a Moore-on?

A Mattitude Follower or Just a Moore-on?

Raw opened with Alexx in the middle of the ring. For obvious reasons, she appeared happy.

"I did it." She announced "After months of putting up with his crap, it gives me great pleasure to say that John Lauranaitis, your services are no longer required."

A great crowd reaction.

"And if Otunga isn't around to translate, let me put it another way... you're fired!"

An even better reaction.

"Now that's taken care of, it's time to move on. I have big plans for RAW in the upcoming months. We will be starting our own version of 'March Madness'. The top 32 singles' competitors will be competing for a shot at the world title..."

Alexx's announcement was cut off.

"Hey babe... remember me?" Tom Hardy, still bruised after his titanic match against Big Show the previous week, stood on the stage. Pausing to carefully scratch at a bandage above his left eye, he appeared confused. "Instead of pandering to these people, shouldn't you be thanking the guy who damn near killed himself just so you could be standing in that ring? I mean, I have received thousands of Facebook and Twitter messages from the fans and the boys in the back, but you never even sent me a fuckin' FTD bouquet!"

"I would've thought that not firing Swagger would've been thanks enough." Alexx retorted

Tom scratched his chin. "Whatever." He shrugged "It wasn't my idea to sleep with him in the first place."

"Was there something else? If not, I'd like to get back to telling my fans what I'm gonna do to make RAW even more popular." Her patience with Tom was wearing paper-thin.

"Hell ya, Toots. If my only bitch, other than the one in the ring, was not getting a thank-you, I wouldn't be out here."

"Make it fast."

"Okay... as it pertains to running RAW, there is only one word to describe you... blargghhhh!" Tom mimed having to puke. "If it wasn't for John Lauranaitis being even more incompetent, last week's result would've been very different."

"Hold it right there, Hardy! Before your big mouth gets you fired, let me remind you that it wasn't me who started this mess."

"Blame someone else, why not?" Tom walked to the ring. "To listen to you, it was good fortune that you were in the place you were to prevent a complete take-over."

"It was."

"But to listen to Erik, it was your suggestion to sell the stock in the first place."

"Oh yeah? When did you talk to my former partner?" Hoping it was a bluff, Alexx went all-in.

"Not important." Tom stepped through the ropes. Facing down his boss, he shrugged again."What is important is Erik will be here next week to call you out and set the record straight."

This was news to Alexx.

...

"What's got into your brother? Is it his time of month?" The Saints were actually happy with this turn. They were among a minority that wanted Erik back.

Both Matt and Jeff shrugged. "Maybe he's just..."

"Excuse me, Matt. There's a guy waiting for you at the loading dock. Blond hair, shitload o' tats. He says he knows you."

_Shanny... what the hell is he doing here?_

"Be right back, guys." There were a couple of catcalls, but most of the roster was paying more attention to Alexx and Tom, still jawjacking in the ring.

Matt headed for receiving. He'd spoken to Shannon less than half-a-dozen times since they Prince of Punk's departure from 'that other promotion'. His appearance was a surprise, and a pleasant one at that.

"Finally got tired o' sitting on ya ass?" Matt saw the spikes while he was twenty feet out.

Shannon jumped. "You ass." He smirked at Matt.

"Couldn't resist, man. How the hell are ya?" They hugged.

"Honestly? Bored out o' my fuckin' mind." Shannon replied

"Tat business slow?"

"Not really, but some days I feel like I'm just goin' through the motions." Shannon answered

"Been there. Done that. Quit the company." Matt stated

Shannon nodded. "So..." He scratched behind his left ear.

Matt chuckled aloud. "You want me to ask Alexx if she could use you?"

Shannon scuffed the concrete floor with his sneaker. "Would you? I mean, if it won't get you into trouble or anything."

"Nah, it's cool. We got an open door policy, even if it is just for a coupla shows... but ya know the first thing Alexx is gonna ask me is what you are willing to do."

"Yeah, I know." To Matt, it sounded like Shannon was already having second thoughts.

"Do you want to talk to her in person? Once the show is over, I'm sure she'll have a few minutes."

"Actually... I'd rather show you." Shannon's hesitation was gone. In place was a grin Matt recognized from their teenage years. His heart lurched, his dick twitched, and his mouth got cotton-dry; all in the span of two seconds.

"Y-y-y-you got somewhere close?"

"Van's in the parking lot. You sure ya won't be missed?"

One of Erik's rules was 'No sex during the show, unless it's during the show.' Alexx had never explicitly told the roster the same. The way Matt's body was already responding, he figured he wouldn't be gone long enough to be missed.

"Let's go." Matt's voice dropped an octave. He took a quick look around just in case, then ran after Shannon. He followed his childhood friend into the ample cargo area of a plain white van.

Matt and Shannon stared at each other for only a moment before Shannon jumped on Matt.

"You remember when we were kids?" He whispered into Matt's ear, running his fingers lightly across his chest. "All the fun we had figurin' shit out."

Matt nodded. Something in Shannon's voice was turning his insides into a puddle and his outside rock-hard.

"I loved it. The first time I made you come, you looked like you had died and gone to heaven." Shannon added "You didn't even know what come was until I jacked you."

"Then you wouldn't stop." Matt answered, swallowing loudly. "Every time we hung out, just the two of us, you'd get me off."

"I know. That was the fun part." Shannon smiled "Pushing all your buttons, finding out what made you hot. There were so many times that I wished I had been born differently so I could just fuck your brains out anytime, anywhere I wanted."

Matt silently agreed with that.

"You still want to know what I'll do?" Shannon reached under Matt's t-shirt and tweaked his nipple. "Better still, what I won't do?"

"N-nothing?" It wasn't the cold that was making Matt shiver. It was Shannon's hot breath on the side of his neck.

"You get me this job and it's game on, in and out of the ring." Shannon nipped at Matt's neck. "I promise you, there will be no regrets either way."

"Game on? Y-you mean...?"

Shannon smiled. "I promised I'd show you." He pulled down Matt's zipper and reached inside. His expression changed. "Damn, someone is ready."

"Dude, you don't know the half of it." Matt leaned back. "I've had so little luck lately, I might as well be Straightedge."

"I hope not." Shannon pulled Matt's cock out and rubbed the pad of his thumb across the tip. "That would really fuck us both in the ass. Blowjob first?"

"Do you have to ask?" Matt thrust his groin into Shannon's hand.

"Just don't explode too quickly. I would like this to last longer than our first time." Shannon leaned over and kissed Matt while continuing to rub him.

"Hey!" Matt pulled away from the kiss. "That wasn't my fault. Like you said, I didn't know what an orgasm was."

"I know." Shannon answered "But I like to remind you anyway."

Matt tried to come up with something either witty, or at least a seven on the smart-ass scale, but all his thoughts went right to his dick when Shannon swallowed it whole. He closed his eyes, accidentally banging the back of his head against the van's metal frame when he leaned back a bit too far.

"Y'okay?" Shannon asked, a little muffled from talking around Matt's dick. Matt didn't mind, though. The vibrations went right to his core.

He could barely nod a reply, but that was more than enough for Shannon. He went back to work, now using his spare hand to gently squeeze Matt's testicles.

"Shannon, not this way." Matt groaned

"What's wrong?" Alarmed, Shannon removed his hands and mouth from Matt's body.

"I want you inside me."

"You do?" The one thing they'd never done before. Shannon had wanted to, but Matt was always nervous about it. Yet, here they were and here was Matt, asking for it. Shannon decided he better act before Matt changed his mind.

"You sure?"

"Please Shanny. We may never have this chance again." Matt moaned

"Okay." Shannon quickly peeled off his pants and skivvies. Like Matt, he was hard and begging for release.

Matt slid down the side of the van until he was lying flat. Shannon reached into the pocket of his discarded pants and removed a small tube.

"Let me know if I'm hurtin' ya." He whispered while lubing himself.

Matt nodded. Watching his friend prep himself was turning him on more than he could imagine. He had to concentrate so he wouldn't finish himself off before Shannon even got started.

"Okay, Matthew. Ready?"

"Do it." Matt growled "Fuck me, O Prince of Punk."

Shannon nodded slightly. He lifted Matt's legs over his shoulders and, aided by the slippery lube, quickly slid into Matt's warm willing orifice.

Matt sucked in his breath at the first penetration but as his muscles relaxed and he got used to the feeling, any discomfort was quickly removed; replaced by nothing but pure, unadulterated pleasure.

Shannon gave Matt a moment to adjust to the new sensations before he began the fucking in earnest. A few quick, half-thrusts, followed by one deep one.

Matt tensed, then quivered when Shannon struck him deeply.

"Like that?" Shannon asked, even though the reply was obvious.

Matt tried to say something coherent, but the tide of pleasure running through it made that impossible. All he could do was gasp loudly.

"I'll take that as an Oh God, go it again kinda thing." Shannon continued to ream Matt's ass, using the same three short and one long stroke each time.

Matt was on fire. His cock was throbbing, twitching with each short stroke, and spasming every time Shannon went right to his core. He wondered if sex was ever going to feel this good again.

Seeing his friend in this state... body flushed head to toe, his penis looking ready to explode at the lightest touch, Shannon fucked him hard... and then held the position.

The sensation of the head of Shannon's dick pressed against his sweet spot sent stars to Matt's eyes and they rolled back in his head. He came. Hard.

"Fuck..." He whispered repeatedly with each new spurt from his over-sensitive glans.

Seeing Matt so overwhelmed was enough for Shannon and he withdrew. Pumping himself, he quickly emptied his load to combine with Matt's across his sweaty abs.

Neither of them spoke until their breathing returned to normal.

"I hope that answers your question." Shannon smiled at Matt, looking at the evidence on his chest.

"Oh God..." Matt sighed "just like I fantasized about all those nights in Cameron."

"I just hope your boss doesn't want a demonstration right away. I think you broke me." Shannon looked down at himself.

"Me neither. I think you broke me too."

Shannon reached for a package of wet-wipes and he began to clean himself off. "So now what?" He asked, handing a few towelettes to Matt so he could do the same.

"We should probably get back. People will start to get suspicious if I'm gone too long." Matt quickly cleaned the silvery streaks from his torso and tossed the used cloths aside. "First thing after the show, we'll talk to Alexx."

They dressed quietly and returned to the locker room. Matt was half-right. They hadn't been away for too long, but at least one person had noticed.

"Matty... you almost missed our match!" Jeff scolded

"Me? Never." Matt answered

"After Tommers was such a grouchy-pants, I didn't want ya to get into trouble too. What was I supposed to tell her?"

"That I was negotiating for peace." Both Matt and Shannon found the comment hilarious.

"Meanies." Jeff knew there was something going on.

"I'll tell ya all about it later." Matt blushed at the memory. "But right now, I got a bargaining session to finish."

_Coming up next... Erik returns, or does he?_

_There is still no set pairing for RAW is HBO's epic next episode... suggestions are still welcome._


	30. Shootin' the Shit

**This chapter brought you by the newest release from RAW is HBO publishing... "The Past, the Present, and the Future Tom Hardy"... The story of one of pro wrestling's most controversial stars, from his upbringing to his life in the bigs, to his tragic end. Everything that is Tom Hardy. First three chapters now available online.**

...

"I mean, seriously, what the fuck... I know she's got a lot on her mind, but you'd think she'd remember to tell us that the staff meeting was cancelled." John complained

The entire roster had arrived at the arena two hours before the show, as was the rule, only to be greeted by a sign on the door. "NO MEETING TODAY. RUN SHEET BELOW."

Grumbles and under-the-breath mutterings from many of the boys.

"If I had known that, fella, I wouldnta kicked that boyo out o' me bed so early." Sheamus stated

"Shea, you really gotta stop sleepin' with the fanboys." Tyson Kidd snickered

"You're one ta talk." Sheamus sneered "You got them rats waitin' fer ya at the door ev'ry night, and don't cha deny it."

Tyson blushed, admitting truth without a word.

"And just what are ye starin' at, Cener?" Sheamus turned his sharp wit to the former Champion.

"Just trying to figure out if that's your way of getting young Tyson to show you what hangs in front of him, or if you're just be a general pissass this morning." Cena scratched the back of his head.

"Well fook ya if I ain't all bright 'n cheery-by." Sheamus rubbed his facial air in an agitated way.

"C'mon you two. Why don't you just chill the fuck out? We're all a little edgy today." Tyson stepped between the pair.

"Yeah... and Adam isn't even making a guest appearance, bro." Zack added.

Tyson, Cena, and Sheamus all rolled their eyes at Zack. "Are you serious, bro?" Cena couldn't resist throwing that back at Ryder.

"Ahm gonna take a walk. If anyone needs me, ya know where I'll be." Sheamus cracked his knuckles.

"Masturbating in a storage room?" Cena guessed

"Shoving a shillelagh up your ass?" That was Tyson's idea.

"You can both shove a shillelagh up yer own arses for all I care." Sheamus huffed, and walked away.

Cena and Tyson watched him. "I give him ten minutes."

"Ten minutes?" Tyson didn't quite understand. "I thought you were joking."

"Me? Joking? Nah, little bro. In about ten minutes, Sheamus will be in a quiet room somewhere with a porno in one hand and his dick in the other." Cena replied "If you don't believe me, ask Ryder."

"Yah, bro. Cena and I crashed his party one time." Ryder agreed

"Was that before or after you had a twelve second title match with him?" Tyson ribbed.

Ryder muttered something incomprehensible, then wandered off to do something to kill time.

Cena and Kidd were now alone in the hallway. The rest of the roster had yet to arrive and, knowing most of their traveling tendencies, probably wouldn't be for at least another hour.

"Follow me." Cena looked at his watch, then grabbed the high-flier by the arm.

"Where are we going?" Tyson did not like being dragged around like a trophy fuck. If he did, he would still be sleeping with Natalya.

"Do you want to watch Sheamus jerk off to the recent copy of Big Busty British Bitches or not?"

Cena saw Tyson's stunned expression. "Dude, I was NOT kidding."

It had been a long time since the words 'Tyson' and 'action' were anywhere near each other. Except for his own sessions of self-love, which were infrequent at that, he'd managed not to get involved in all the smut that happened in ring as well as all the hookups backstage. He'd tried to cover for that by claiming he was still with Nattie, but everyone knew that was a lie. Once the divas had been let go, she'd found work over on Smackdown and the last rumor circling the bowl was that she'd hooked up with Wade Barrett.

He enjoyed watching though and that was the important thing. He watched as Cena lightly rapped on several doors, then listened carefully. On the seventh try, he winked at Tyson and smirked lewdly.

"We're here." He whispered

Tyson gulped, his nervousness going from his chest down to between his legs. He was glad that he had put on loose track pants that morning, even if they tented at the slightest arousal.

Cena quietly turned the knob and opened the door. "Ladies, first."

Tyson rolled his eyes at the wanna-be rapper. "Whatevs." He croaked, his voice going south as well.

He stepped inside and was rewarded with not a pale, naked, Irish man playing with himself. Sheamus, but an Irish man looking to brogue kick someone into the next decade.

"Losin' ya touch, Cena?"

"Sorry, man. Ryder pissed off before I could collar him."

"So ya brought me this, eh? I s'pose it'll hafta do."

Sheamus and Tyson stared at each other in silence... the sexual tension was unbelievable. Finally, Tyson's resolve broke.

"John, I don't think this is..." He turned, but Cena was gone. There was no one in the room but the two of them and Tyson now knew what prey felt like.

"Just you 'n me." Sheamus glared

"I don't know what John told you, but I'm not into..."

"Cena told me nothin'." Sheamus took two giants steps. Now face-to-face with the smaller man, he gave Kidd a quick once-around.

Tyson was terrified. Sheamus was a monster inside the ring, and from his few interactions backstage with the brute, not much different.

"You know, I've been watching you 'n Gabriel do yer Airstrike thing and it really turns me on." Sheamus whispered directly into Tyson's right ear. Do you know how many times I've dreamed of the pair o' ya doin' a 69?"

Tyson blushed. He wasn't willing to admit that he'd dreamed the same thing on more than one occasion.

"But he's w-with Slater." Tyson shuddered

Sheamus shrugged. "I heard he prefers the company of his hand. Why do you think they call him "one-man band"?"

Tyson shrugged back.

"Enough talk." Sheamus grabbed what little hair Tyson had and pulled his head back. He quickly sealed Kidd's mouth with his own.

Despite his body telling him otherwise, Tyson most certainly did NOT want to be used like this. Not by Sheamus, or anyone else for that matter. He knew he was good looking, and probably the subject of a lot of wet dreams, but he was a man. Not a plaything. As soon as his brain overrode his dick, he pounded Sheamus on the back until the larger man broke the kiss.

Sheamus and Tyson stared silently at each other, the only sound in the small was their joint exhalations.

"Now if ya tell me ya didn't like that, ya know I'll say yer full o' shite." Sheamus finally spoke. His words were accompanied by a smirk as he glanced down at Tyson. The grey sweats he wore as well as the small wet spot, told the Irishman that some parts of Tyson had indeed enjoyed it.

Tyson looked at the floor. He made to quickly adjust himself into a less obvious position, but as soon as he touched his member, he groaned. _Fuck... _ He prayed that Sheamus hadn't heard, but when he looked up again, he was being smiled at.

"Tole ya so... so why doan ya stop pussyfootin' around and let me take care o' ya?" Sheamus rubbed his pale fingers across the front of his own pants. He didn't seemed a but embarrassed by the fact he too was bulging.

"You... take care of me?" Tyson gulped nervously. This was not what he'd expected.

"Ah'll be square with ya... I've wanted ya since the days ah laid eyes on ya." Sheamus sighed "Ah was so jealous o' ya and Natalya."

"Y-you... jealous?" Tyson clicked in his throat. This was taking a turn for the weird. "But you can have anyone in the locker room... several times over if you want."

"Ah don't want any o' them... ya see my problem? Sure, the fucks are good, but I only get off because people will start yapping if I don't." Sheamus stuffed his hands in his pockets. "What say ya help make a sad Irishman's day?"

"Well..." Tyson still paused. Why, he couldn't even answer that to himself. "okay, but my asshole is off limits." He was not going to let rumors start that he was an easy bottom. He knew where that lead to... visions of Darren Young being passed around briefly flashed through his mind.

"I'm sure I ken find other ways to make both of us happy." Sheamus smiled broadly, then reached for the waistband of Tyson's pants, pulling both them and his briefs down to his knees. Tyson gasped when the air first hit his swollen member.

To his surprise, Tyson found himself thinking that nothing would make him happier at that moment. He was almost naked, totally erect, and from Sheamus' attitude, was about to allow him to do something Nattie had never let him... assuming he didn't shoot during the blowjob that Sheamus was giving him. The longer the surprisingly talented Irishman's mouth was on him, the more likely that was going to happen. With a sigh of regret, Tyson pushed him off.

Sheamus pouted. "Did yer not like that?"

"No..." Tyson stated "It's just... I don't want... not like that." Saying something that made sense was becoming very difficult. To his surprise, Sheamus seemed to understand.

"I get yer." Sheamus turned around and slowly peeled down his own pants and underwear. "This is more like what yer be wantin', am I right, young Tyson?"

His mind completely lust-driven, Tyson's only reply was to grab Sheamus' hips and quickly part his ass cheeks with his hard member. He almost shot the moment his erection found the tight passage between the pale globes.

Sheamus gasped. This was not new territory for him, but it felt different. It actually felt... right? He wasn't sure if that was the word his sex-addled brain was looking for, but as long as Tyson kept on doing what he was doing, it would have to do.

"You like that?"

_Did he really have to ask? _Sheamus would've thought that his incoherent babblings, plus the lusty moans he was giving out, would've been answer enough.

"Fook, yeah Ty... gimme all yer got." Sheamus reared back, trapping Tyson's leaking penis deep inside him.

_Oh shit... how did he know... dammit, I'm gonna..._

Tyson came with a loud grunt... the spurts of hot seed inside his waiting body sent Sheamus to the edge and he quickly finished as well.

"Oh fook..." Sheamus repeated, his exclamation tapering to a contented sigh.

"Fook is right." Tyson wiped a sheen of sweat from his forehead and flicked it onto the tiles. "Y'know, maybe this will work."

"Maybe? Ya mean...?"

"Talk later." Tyson reached for a moving blanket and quickly spread it on the floor, then grabbed several more and turned them into a makeshift bed. "Right now, I need a rest." He climbed in. He motioned with his eyes to the other half. "Don't you?"

"But we got a show tonight! Alexx'll have our arse if we're late."

"We'll be on time." Tyson yawned "Sleep now?"

_Ah, what the fook... _

Sheamus curled up next to Tyson and they were both soon sound asleep in each others arms.

...

"Show starts in five minutes."

Tyson raised his head from the shoulder of his still dozing latest encounter.

"Hey, Great White... time to get up."

Sheamus mumbled something incoherent.

"Hey, Erik's supposed to be coming back tonight. You want him to think we're sleeping on the job?" Tyson slapped him, leaving a bright red palm print on his pale skin.

"Ya shore kno' how ta get mah attention, don't cha?" Sheamus was awake, but from his tone he was not happy about it.

"Sorry." Tyson apologized while reaching for his track pants. "Take it out on me later."

"Ah will, fella." Sheamus answered, also reaching for his pants. "B'lieve me, that arse of yours will be screamin' fer mercy."

Tyson smirked "I don't think so. Race you to the locker room."

Sheamus shook his head. Chuckling happily, he loped after the young Canadian. He wondered briefly if he should send Cena a thank-you, but quickly squashed that thought. After all, he did still have a rep to uphold.

...

Like many RAW shows in the past, this one also started with the owner standing in the ring.

"Well, I'm here. I guess that's more than I can say for my former partner."

Alexx paused to gauge the crowd reaction. "I'm not gonna wait forever, Erik. These fans came to see hardcore action, not stare at me all night."

"He will be here. Just keep your drawers on." Tom said, appearing on the Verboten-tron. "He's running a bit late tonight."

"Late? Forgive me if I think he isn't gonna show."

"He will. Trust me." Tom exuded smugness.

"He better or you will be the one who's late. As in the late Tom Hardy."

Very small reaction from the crowd to what was supposed to be a threat?

"Sorry... it's the best I could come up with on short notice. "Alexx shrugged

"Don't worry..."

"Tom, you can shut up now. I can speak for myself."

Stepping on stage, Erik ended his exile. The fans were happy for his return; Alexx showed no emotion at all.

"So, I'm sitting at home when I get an e-mail. No sender, just urgent. Usually I junk anonymous e-mails, but the subject line said RAW. It turns out an e-petition begging for me to return is starin' me in the in-box."

Alexx's poker face finally cracked. Her jaw dropped in surprise.

"I'm not sure if that was a knock against you or Johnny Ass, but I'm here to get to the bottom of things. Until I do, it's business as usual."

"You do understand that, as a result of Tom Hardy defeating Big Show..."

"That on paper, you own one hundred percent of R.A.W., inc?" Erik interrupted "That's not why I'm here. Believe you me, if I wanted to take back my half-share in the company, it would've been done already."

"Then spell it out. Why are you back?"

Erik scratched the side of his nose. "These fans know, most of the guys in the back know... if you don't, then maybe we need to talk. I'll be in your office."

Leaving a very perplexed and puzzled Alexx alone in front of a capacity crowd, Erik went backstage. Keeping the small talk with the roster to a minimum, he quickly found her office and went inside.

After quickly making a few matches for the night, including one between Jeff Hardy and Shannon Moore for the title of "company slut", Alexx also went back to her office: she assumed that Erik was going to explain himself, but she was wrong. The three men waiting for her confirmed that.

"What the fuck is going on?"


	31. Ducking Out, part one

**Sorry for the delay on this one... I was without internet for nearly a month due to one hungry cat and my power cable. James Lawson appears courtesy of my partner in crime Megan. I hope I didn't ruin his rep too badly with this one. **

Slariel. A-Ry and Jomo. Bourton. Tagger (Tom Hardy and Jack Swagger). Cooper and Erik. Ryder and Edge. Jeffro and... well, anyone he could get his hands on. The list goes on and on. Add to that all the one-night stands, friends-with-benefits, and pity fucks... this list would be as long as the NYC telephone directory.

But it worked. Yes, the odd break-up had more drama than a whole season of "The Jersey Shore", but things were mostly peaceful in HBO-land. Mostly...

...

"I repeat. What the fuck is going on?" Alexx addressed the trio of men in her office. Two of them she recognized. The third was either their attorney or a psycho killer: not much difference between the two in her mind.

"May I introduce James Lawson, head of Likansuk industries..."

"The Porn King?" Alexx blurted out, then quickly shut her mouth.

James smirked. "Meh, I've been called worse."

"And that's by his own family." Cooper added

"Watch it, boy. I'm still not happy about finding out you and he are a couple from my secretary." James cuffed Cooper over the ear.

Cooper's head snapped to the side. "Connor's hit me harder than that."

"Don't tempt me."

"Since I'm still not sure what's goin on, could one of you Nimrods tell me before I have to clean blood from the carpet?"

"Well, I figured you weren't going to hand RAW back to me on a platter, so I had my boyfriend call in a favor." Erik interjected

"More than one, Erik." Cooper grumbled, remembering all the begging he'd need to do just to get James to agree to the meeting. It was fortunate that his father had no idea about just how close he was to Erik when he'd said yes.

"I know, Coopy." Erik replied, giving his man a half-hug, much to James' displeasure. "I said I'd make it up to you."

"You can start by NOT calling me Coopy." Cooper gnashed his teeth. "You know how much I hate that."

"Could we get back to the reason I'm here in the first place. You know my patience for meetings ain't real high, no matter what the situation." James interrupted

"Yeah. I'm also curious." Alexx agreed

"It's quite simple. Distribution. We have all this footage from RAW, the Pay-Per-Views, but no place to shop it. DVD chains won't touch us."

"Duh." Alexx interrupted

"On-line would just lump us in with all the other Porn sites which would price us right out of the market if we wanted to stand out, and rental kiosks aren't an option."

"Likansuk would solve all those problems?"

"Yes. They have the resources, the staffing requirements, the in-house set-up... you get where I'm going with this?"

Alexx nodded.

"At least, that's what Cooper told me."

"That's where I fit in. Normally I don't give a shit about wrestlin', but makin' fuckloads of cash is another story. Not that I need it, it's just fun to make Marky squirm." James had a recognizable gleam in his eyes.

"Greed is good." Alexx was in agreement about that, at least. "You see why I don't want to give up those 'fuckloads of cash', as you so eloquently put it."

"We'll see about that. Mr. Lawson, you have the floor..." Erik interrupted again.

...

"Ladies and... well mostly, gentlemen. This contest is to decide the inaugural Slut Champion. The rules are simple... there are none! The match can be won by pinfall, submission, or orgasm."

"You know, it's at the point where the guys aren't even trying to pretend they're straight anymore."

Sabin looked at his tag partner, unsure if this was a complaint or not. What Alex was talking about was that over the past year, the inhibitions of the locker room were rapidly swirling away. There had been times, and these were getting more frequent, that the backstage area had turned into one huge jerk-fest during some of RAW's more graphic specialty matches.

"Since when does this bother you, Cybersex?" Chris answered

"It doesn't." Alex responded "It's just getting old, don'tcha think?"

Chris nuzzled his partner. "What I think is that little Alex needs some lovin'. We're not booked tonight, so why don't we jam it back to the hotel and have some alone time?"

Alex looked around. No one seemed to be paying them attention. They were watching Jeff and Shannon's ring entrances... and more than one man was already hard.

"You don't have to ask me twice." Alex leaned back, nipping at Chris' earlobe.

"Usually I don't have to ask you once. Let's book."

If anyone else noticed the sudden departure of RAW's tag champs, it was only for a moment. All eyes were soon on the ring. Despite the rules stating how the match could be won, everyone seated was pretty sure it would be by orgasm.

...

Just doing the normal things like getting in the car, driving back to the hotel, and getting to their room without jumping his partner was sometimes difficult for Chris Sabin. There were other times when just realizing that he was with Alex brought a warm fuzzy to his heart... not that the words 'warm fuzzy' and 'Chris Sabin' should be used in the same sentence, or in public, or both for that matter.

Alex seemed to handle it a lot better. Those times when Chris was so horny, yet there were hordes of screaming fans desiring autographs, he wondered how his partner was able to act so calm when just signing his name without exploding was a feat all by itself. Hence the nickname 'Cybersex'. Alex seemed to be able to switch it on and off in seconds.

Closing their room door with a loud click, both Chris and Alex were immediately grateful that they were wearing their R.A.W.-issued track suits instead of something that would take the effort to remove. Trying to remove Alex's ring gear when he was as horny as he was now had been a mistake. He'd only got a peek at Alex's erection before shooting his own load. Never again, he'd promised.

The track suits were quickly discarded to the four corners of the room, wrestling gear quick to join them, and underwear likewise followed. Except for their armbands, they were both totally naked, completely hard, and eager for release.

"You first." Alex knew that once his partner got going, he couldn't shut it off. He was like a leaky faucet that way. (Make your own image here, folks!)

Just those two words sent sparks to Chris' core. A few more sparks and he might shoot off like a 4th of July firework.

"If you don't calm down, we'll be finished in time to catch the tail end of RAW." Alex wasn't joking.

Chris shrugged. "If that's all you care about, the remote is on the table. The Company Slut match might still be going on..."

Alex frowned. "Oh, please. You know twinks don't do it for me. If I'm gonna fuck a dude, I want him to at least act like a dude. Which is where you fit in..."

Just like that, Chris found himself on the receiving end of a patented Alex Shelley blowjob. For all the times they'd done stuff like that, getting head from Alex never got old. For all the video games, the weed, and the introspection that went along with it that they shared... this was the one thing that was never the same way twice. Chris wouldn't have it any other way.

"Just don't come too fast, partner." Alex said through a mouthful of penis. "Feels like you're about ready to bust a nut and I'm still on simmer."

"I'll try... maybe if I had a joint...?" Chris suggested

"It's not a joint you need. What you need is to get the "oh fuck, Alex is sucking my dick" out of your mind." Alex responded

"Easy for you to say. You're not the only whose dick Alex is sucking." Chris retorted

"Thanks for padding my ego, but come on... think of Don West... or that time you walked in on Bischoff naked." Alex answered

"Dude, that's so... ewww." Chris replied "You want me to go back to girls?"

"Like you would." Alex teased him. "You know once you've had your dick in my mouth, everyone else is second-rate at best."

"And you just finished thanking me for padding your ego? You don't need it padded at all, my fr... holy fuck!"

Alex had resumed the blowjob with a suction that the Hoover Vacuum Cleaning Company would be proud of. Chris tried to think of something that would prevent his orgasm, but even thoughts of dead Nuns and old puppies weren't working.

"Alex, I'm going to... c'mon bro, ease up... shit, Alex..." Chris' pleas soon turned to incoherent gasps and mumbles. If Alex heard Chris, he was too busy to say anything about it. He simply continued the intense head.

"ALEX!" Chris shouted; it was quite likely that the wrestlers back at the arena heard him as he came in Alex's eager mouth. Shelley swallowed every spurt, then looked at Chris, hungry for more.

"I... I thought you said..." Chris panted

"I lied. Now it's my turn." Alex sneered

'My turn' usually meant getting ridden like a merry-go-round horse. After the first time, that's exactly what Chris felt like.

"Any time, baby... how do you want me?" Chris knew what the answer was, but he still liked to ask.

"You're fine just the way you are, lover." Alex lifted Chris' legs and hooked them over his shoulders. In that position, Alex's rock-hardness was pointed directly at his partner's tight hole. "Ready?"

"No, but do it anyway." Chris answered. No matter how many times they fucked, Chris was never truly ready, but still...

"Incoming!" That was Alex's favorite pre-entrance yell.

Chris felt a sharp stab at his kidney's, then it was over and Alex was inside him. Shelley waited just long enough for Chris to be comfortable, then he began fucking him with long, smooth strokes. He went in just deep enough to tickle his prostate, then back out. It was Shelley's favorite trick to use. It prolonged his enjoyment and stopped Sabin from shooting too fast. Despite just coming, it only took a few strokes before Chris was again erect.

"Mmm... I love that ass of yours, Chris. It's so tight and so hot... I can't wait for you to milk my cock." Alex leaned forward, putting more of his weight on his partner.

Chris moaned. He wanted to touch himself again, but Alex's position made it impossible. This was a good thing. In addition to 'Alex has my dick in his mouth', the thought of 'Alex is fucking my ass' also tended to make their encounters rather quick to end.

"You know somethin'?" Alex leaned forward again, placing one hand to each side of Chris' head.

"What? "Chris was barely able to gasp.

"I don't think you've ever looked this sexy." Their position made it difficult to kiss, so Alex settled for licking the tip of Chris' nose.

"I'm no different from any other time you've fucked me senseless." Chris replied

"True... but that is as close to mushy sentiment as I'm gonna get, so take it." Alex leaned back and started again. His change of position increased the attack on Chris' prostate... not that Sabin needed any more stimulation. His once flaccid member was again hard, throbbing, and leaking.

_I wish he'd touch me_...

After years of being together, both in and out of the squared circle, Alex read his partner's body language. Usually, just fucking Chris was enough to get him off, but tonight was different. Thinking back, Alex realized that this was a rare encounter. Usually it was fuck him and jack him off at the same time or a frantic BJ. Not often did both happen and Chris looked ready to explode again.

"You ready to shoot, partner?" Alex asked, rhetorically of course.

Chris only sighed loudly.

Alex winked and grabbed Chris' thick member, still sticky from a combo of Alex's spit and his first orgasm.

"Let's come together..." Alex was close and he assumed Chris was as well. It only took a few deep thrusts before he felt Chris' butt cheeks clench around him. Seconds later, his fist was covered with several globs of what looked like melted ice cream. 'Sabin's special sauce' as Chris called it.

(You think that's bad? Try going to any fast food restaurant with the pair and NOT have it turn into foreplay! 'Sabin's special sauce', indeed.)

Alex withdrew from his partner and both men lay on the double bed for a minute before first Alex, then Chris, got up to use the bathroom.

When Chris emerged, he was surprised to see Alex dressed in the same clothes they had started the night in. His trunks were still scattered nearby, so he assumed that the were not going back to the arena. Wrong assumption, as it turned out.

Exiting their hotel room, Alex's original plan was to jet back to the arena and watch the last part of the show. However, neither man had bothered to look at the clock until they had passed reception.. Their recent bout of nooky had consumed the rest of RAW, as well as giving some members of the roster enough time to get back to the hotel. Most of them were already heading for the hotel restaurant for a nice dinner, while some of the more party-hardy types were heading for the bar next door. Evan and Randy, having the same cheesy grin that Chris and Alex were wearing earlier, sprinted to the elevators.

"Looks like we're not the only ones who had anti-social plans tonight." Alex whispered in Chris' ear. Chris giggled to himself.

That left one other couple in the almost-empty lobby: Jack Swagger and Tom Hardy. Despite some of Tom's on-air comments, it seemed that their new romance was still intact. On the surface, that is.

"Jake, I still don't get why you're doing this. Lauranaitis is out of the picture. You don't have any obligation to him, Vince, or Smackdown." Tom said

"The match is made, man. Look, it's just one match." Swagger replied "I'll do the taping tomorrow night and be back for the RAW house show on Wednesday."

"Fine... at least let me come with you." Tom pleaded

"Tommy, I'm a grown man. I can take care of myself." Jake asserted himself. Difficult to do when you have a speech impediment like his.

Tom raked his fingers through his dark mane. "For the record, that is not why I'm concerned."

"It's Dolph and Vickie, isn't it?" Jake responded "I told you, what happened in the past stays there. It's you and me now, baby. Don't you trust me?"

Tom sighed. He knew when he was beaten. "I trust you, Jake." He sighed again. "I'll see you on Wednesday... a kiss for the road?"

"Like I'd forget." Jake leaned down and kissed his flame intensely. The Saints were starting to get aroused again before the two broke the smooch. "See you later."

All three men watched Jake leave the hotel. Tom turned toward his now-single accommodation and that was when he saw both Chris and Alex.

"You're never around when we need you, but you still show up at the worst moments." Tom looked cross.

"Sorry, but..."

"Don't care about your fucking." Tom replied smartly. "But you better have a better story than that at the meeting tomorrow. You missed a lot tonight."

"Like what?" Alex asked

"I'll let Alexx explain it." Tom stated "But I'll give you a heads-up... ducking out tonight may have cancelled your contracts."

**To Be Continued**


	32. Ducking Out, part two: Lullaby

By now, the entire wrestling world knew what happened to Jack Swagger after the Smackdown taping. That isn't to defend his actions, but it's understandable. However, on the RAW is HBO side of things, there was at least one person who wasn't as understanding. That explains the actions of a certain member of the roster during the RAW stop in Biloxi the following night. It was originally scheduled to be Jack Swagger versus Justin Gabriel. Midway through the match, that changed in a big way.

Swagger had just nailed Gabriel with a running power bomb and was turning him over to hook in his ankle lock when the match was interrupted.

"You stupid son of a bitch!" The voice was easily recognized. "I told you this would happen!"

"But..." Recognition hit Swagger milliseconds before the back of his head hit the mat, courtesy the Insanity reverse bulldog.

"Motherfucker." Tom growled, "You never fucking listen!"

He looked over at both the ref and Justin, both of whom were wondering what they were supposed to do now that the script was flipped on its ass.

"Cover him." Tom growled again, this time at Justin. "And you better count it."

Megan shrugged. "Whatevs. I get paid, regardless."

Tom stayed at ringside just long enough to make sure that the match was officially over. With a look that could shatter glass, he stormed backstage and immediately left the arena. His famously short temper at its breaking point, Tom needed to release his anger before he had a meltdown.

He jumped into his Viper and before anyone, family or otherwise, could stop him, we was cruising at 140 mph down I-10, easily swerving around those irresponsible drivers who were merely doing the speed limit.

After he'd killed the engine in the parking lot outside his hotel, Tom sat for a few minutes, listening to the ticking of the car's motor. It reminded him of a time bomb, which was very proper to how he felt that he would explode any second.

"Better get into the hotel, Hardy." Tom said aloud "Eventually someone will come along, then you'll have to explain yourself, and you will make an even bigger mess out of that."

Tom hated when he was right, particularly when it was a one-sided conversation. Passing the front desk, his original plan to go to his room and try to relax with some room service disappeared in seconds when he remembered that there was an all-night gym on site.

He changed into his unused wrestling gear and started to work out; hardly noticing anything around him as he did twenty minutes on the heavy bag, then another twenty on the Stairmaster.

"Fuckin' Swagger..." He muttered. The climbing doing nothing, Tom went to the bench press. Midway through his third set of reps, he felt the tension start to release. He slid off the bench, and grabbed some more weight. "Stupid, stupid, stupid."

"I know Tom, okay? I fucked up."

Tom looked over at the only person that he could've cared less about.

"How the hell did you find me?"

"I asked Jeff what hotel you were stayin' in. He wasn't gonna tell me, but I bribed him with Skittles." Jake shrugged "I was gonna wait for you outside your room, but I figured when I heard the banging, that you were here."

"And you figured now would be a good time to talk" Tom chuckled "with a guy whose fuse is very short and wouldn't think twice about throwing one of these at your head?" Tom dropped the weight onto the bar with a loud clang!

"Maybe I deserve it." Jack hung his head. "I know sorry won't make up for it, but..."

"Would you like to know what really pisses me off about this?" Tom leaned on the bar, still shooting daggers at his boyfriend.

"That I'm stupid?"

"No... that I had to find out about it on TMZ!" Tom yelled. An older couple passing the open doorway looked in, concerned. Tom grabbed Jack by the arm and pulled him into a far corner where they wouldn't be seen by passers-by.

"I was going to tell you as soon as I could, but I only got one chance to make a phone call... I needed bail."

"I know... you called my lawyer."

Jack looked sheepishly at Tom. "Yeah, he tore me a new one as well."

"Serves you right."

"Tommy, I'm sorry... I was stupid. I can't say it any other way. You have every right to be pissed off at me."

"I wasn't pissed off." Tom suddenly got defensive.

"You were singing Nickleback's 'Lullaby'." Jack replied "You only do that when you're either piss-drunk or pissed off."

"What makes you think that..."

"You're here instead of the bar." Jack shrugged. "Look, can we go back to your room and talk about this?"

"Jake, I really don't think that now is a good time. One of us will do something stupid."

"Been there, done that." Swagger muttered, but the fact that Tom had switched from his character's name to his real name gave him a little spot of hope. Maybe he could at least salvage his relationship, if nothing else. "Please?"

_Well, I know the feeling _

_Of finding yourself stuck out on the ledge _

_And there ain't no healing _

_From cutting yourself with the jagged edge..._

"Damn you Chad Kroeger..." Tom cursed

"Tommy?" Jake asked

"Not here." Tom stated

Jake nodded.

"If this is gonna work, then I'm gonna talk and by God, you're gonna listen... right?"

Jake nodded again.

"Fine, let's go."

...

Back at the arena, Matt was trying to reach Tom. As soon as he learned that five bags of Skittles was all it took for Jeff to spill his guts... 'nuff said. What Matt wanted was just to give Tom a warning that Jack was on his way so maybe his older brother wouldn't do something that would also make the first five minutes of TMZ.

"Fuck. It looks like I'm going to be doing damage control again." Matt mentally cursed whomever was in charge for making him the only rational member of the Hardy brothers. "If it's not Jeff, it's Tom... why me?"

On his own way out the loading dock, he literally bumped into John Cena.

"Sorry." Matt mumbled. He was hoping that the champ would just get out of his way so he could get back to the hotel and do what he had to do.

"'s Cool. Trouble on the home front?"

"Always is, man... always is." Matt sighed loud enough for Cena to get the message.

"I know the feelin'. I have four brothers of my own. If you ever want to chill over a beer and vent, ya know where I'm at." Cena tipped his baseball cap and walked toward the gorilla position. Matt watched him, scratching his head. John never talked to someone personally unless he wanted to get with them... at least that was how the locker room rumor mill explained it. Could the face of RAW actually find him attractive? It was almost enough to make Matt forget why he was leaving the arena. Almost, that is.

_Screw it... I'm sick of thinking about everyone else first..._

"Hey Cena, wait up!"

...

_'Cause I have faith in you_

_That you're gonna make it through another night_

_Stop thinking about the easy way out_

_There's no need to go and blow the candle out_

Tom paced the floor of the hotel room, trying to figure out what he should say to Jake, but instead of that Nickleback kept flooding his mind. Bits of the same song over and over and over again.

Jack was in the bathroom, stripping out of his wrestling gear. He'd followed Tom right from the arena without bothering to change or shower and he stank badly.

"Are you almost finished in there?" Tom shouted irritably. In his own mind he was actually glad that Jack was taking his time getting clean. It gave him all the more time to figure out what, if anything, he could say that might make things less antagonistic.

Jack shouted something back. Over the running water and through the door made it impossible for Tom to completely understand, but it must've been something like 'gimme a minute'.

Tom rolled his eyes... _he's on his way out and he wants more time... what a fuckhead!_

When Jack did step out of the shower, Tom immediately turned away. Watching his almost ex-boyfriend change was going to be a mistake.

"Thanks for lettin' me clean up."

"When you're decent, let me know."

"Okay."

"Then park it. I said I was going to do the talking and you're gonna listen."

Jack sat on the nearest bed and waited.

"When you first arrived in my life, you were supposed to fuck me over. Johnny Ace had this whole plan for you and it bombed. Yet, I still fell in love with you so much that I convinced Alexx not to fire your ass after I defeated Big Show for RAW control. Then I find out that not only do you agree to work Smackdown without even telling me, then you make tabloid TV! Seriously, what the fuck was going through your mind?!"

Jack stared at the carpet.

"This is where you speak." Tom barked

"What do you want me to say? Yes, I fucked up? I'm sorry you had to find out about it from the TV? I'll never do it again? What?"

"Jake, that isn't..."

"Tommy, I love you. I would never intentionally hurt you! You kept talking about us together and I figured that a maybe a few extra bucks would help. I guess it's not meant to be..." Jack's voice faded.

_Well, everybody's hit the bottom_

_Everybody's been forgotten_

_When everybody's tired of being alone_

_Yeah, everybody's been abandoned_

_And left a little empty handed_

_So if you're out there barely hanging on..._

"Tommy?" Jack asked

He came back with a snap and Tom realized that he'd faded out. "Huh?" For a moment, everything was still a fuzz.

"I said, if you want me to leave, I will. I'll go back to Smackdown and you'll never have to see me again."

It was then that Tom had his first moment of clarity in days. He turned around and Swagger was surprised to see the moisture at the corners of his eyes.

"No Jake, I don't want you to leave." He sighed, his voice catching on the last words. "I want you to stay."

This was a total surprise.

"Tom, I..." Swagger almost collapsed with relief. "Really?"

"Do you know why I have no luck with relationships?" Tom turned back to stare out the window. "Why I rarely let people get close to me?"

Tom did not wait for a reply before going on. "Every time something like this happens, I can't handle it. I don't know why, but the only thing I can do is lash out."

Jake nodded. A lot of guys in the business were like that. Tom didn't know how common it was.

"You ain't the only one, brah." He stated. "I did the same thing... only wife walked out and took the kid with her."

"What? When?" This was news to Tom. "I didn't say anything, dude... seriously?"

"Actually, you did." Jack said, "Or at least your character did."

Tom had the deer-in-headlights look. Jack could see it in the window's reflection. "You remember that promo right after you won RAW from Johnny? You said something like 'it wasn't my idea to sleep with him in the first place'."

"Yeah." Tom quickly turned around again. "You mean she..."

"Had a blonde moment?" Jack smirked

"I didn't want to say it that way." Tom wiped the last stray tear from his right eye.

"I tried to explain it to her that it was just a shoot, but she kept looking at me funny. I half expected the guys from 'Cheaters' to show up at the door."

"That would've been interesting." Tom had seen a few episodes of the program. In his mind, people who thought Cheaters was real probably also thought wrestling was. (This means you, Glenn Beck!)

"Rather than deal with her endless prying, I just admitted it. I told her everything. I tried to make it sound like Johnny was blackmailing me..."

"He wasn't? I thought he had to have something on you to get you to even attempt my seduction." Everything was making complete sense now.

"He was, but normal guys would've told him to stuff it." Jack answered "It wasn't anything that would hurt me personally. But I had my career to worry about and shit. Anyway, she didn't buy it and tossed me to the curb."

"Dude, I didn't know. "

"Yeah... you saw how I dealt with it." Jack dropped onto the nearby bed.

Tom sighed loudly. "Dude, I'm sorry... I overreacted... again. Let me make it up to you."

"What did you have in mind?" Jack asked

"Nothing major." Tom sat down beside him. "Just this" He kissed Jack, softly, tenderly, lovingly. It was new for both men. Their encounters were usually white-hot, alcohol fuelled, and loud.

When Tom pulled away, it was Jack's turn to get teary-eyed. "Tommy, I love you." He cried, pulling Tom into a warm hug.

"I love you two, ya big lug." Tom replied, holding the All-American tightly. "Let's keep it that way."

The pair spent the rest of the night in each other's arms. It was almost sunrise when they both fell asleep, emotionally exhausted.

_So just close your eyes_

_Oh, honey here comes a lullaby_

_Your very own lullaby_

...

Meanwhile...

In the same hotel...

Matt stared at the note that Cena had 'accidentally' left at the bar.

_If you want to continue this convo someplace a little more intimate, I'm in 625. JC_

He'd heard nothing from either Jeff or Tom since the arena. Normally, he would've been texting them like a madman, demanding details. Tonight, however, he was standing outside room 625, wondering if this was going to be the next big mistake in a line of mistakes.

_Only one way to find out... _Matt knocked on the door.

**To Be Continued**

"Lullaby" copyright 2012 Warner Music Group.

Up next... Matt/Cena for megsjedi... with a little something extra!


	33. Fatal Two-way

Alexx paced the floor impatiently. "Would they please hurry up and get their Murder City asses over here! I do have a life outside this place."

"Chill, babe. Those two will show up if they know what's good for them. Assuming they heard the new law you laid down."

Alexx looked over at Erik, a measure of annoyance on her face. Not only was he in her favorite chair, with his feet on her desk, but he was also chugging down a beer.

"Just 'coz you're back in part-control of this thing, it does not mean that I'm going to let you walk over me." She slammed her fists on the opposite side of the desk, making Erik jump slightly.

"That time of month, babe?" Erik smirked

"Don't call me babe!"

"Whatever. You want me to stick around to watch you fire these two Jamokes?" Erik quietly finished his beer.

"Who said I was gonna fire them?" Alexx retorted

"You did." Erik responded coyly. "Your exact words during the meeting were 'now that we're technically a subsidiary of Likansuk filmworks incorporated, there are a few new rules in effect...' Do you want me to refresh your memory further?"

"Well... I was thinking maybe just give them a warning. After all, they did miss the meeting where this was explained." Alexx answered

"Pussy." Erik muttered

"I heard that, fag-boy!" Alexx shouted back.

"Alright, woman, give **me** a legit reason not to put them on the unemployment line!" Erik quickly stood and faced her nose-to-nose.

"Because last time they fucked on-camera, the ratings shot up faster than the penises of the audience! That's why."

Erik pondered this for a moment. "Oh... has anyone ever told you that your face goes red every time you say the word penis?"

"It does not." Even as she denied it, Alexx could feel the heat going to her face.

"Whatever, babe." Erik answered "I'll leave this in your, ahem, capable hands."

"Gee, are you sure I won't fuck it up?"

"You probably will, but that's not my problem right now." Erik smiled his now-trademark cocky half-smirk. "Laterz."

...

Matt had been standing outside room 625 for what seemed like forever. Every time he almost had enough courage to bang on the door, some deep part of his mind asked him if he wasn't making the second-biggest mistake of his career.

Eventually Matt shut that part of his brain off, yet he still couldn't muster the balls to do the simplest of things... knock on the door. For a guy who used to do twists of fate off ladders, his courage was surely lacking.

"Matthew Moore Hardy, either do it or go find Shannon. But do something."

"Yeah, 'coz talkin' to yerself in an empty corridor ain't gonna help ya much."

To Matt's horror, and later on arousal, John was standing in front of him, clad only in a fluffy white hotel towel.

"I kinda thought I better make the next move or neither of us will get anywhere." John stated

"Yeah, well I..." Matt rubbed the back of his neck and tried not to feel like a total dufus.

"You plannin' on makin' this a social call?" John was getting a rise out of seeing Matt squirm. Hopefully, this squirming would lead to something more pleasurable.

"Cena, honestly, I don't know what the hell I'm doin' here." Matt tried to sound calm. "I mean, why me? You can have anybody on the roster."

"Matt, I don't want anybody on the roster. I want you." John stated "Does that help?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"In that case, come on in. Make yourself comfortable. There's beer in the fridge." John stated "I thought you weren't going to show up, so I'm gonna get showered."

"Can I... are you sure about the beer?" Matt almost blew it right there. What would John think if he shows up and ten seconds later is asking to join him in the shower? He'd already made his intentions plain, but Matt: he was still in the air. He didn't want to go overboard, then regret it. Cena had clout... that was enough to make most of the roster tread very lightly around him.

"Yeah dude. I wouldn'ta asked, otherwise. The place is yours until I get out... don't make too much of a mess."

Matt smiled, casually adjusting the raging hard-on that was pressing against his jeans the moment Cena's back was turned. He was almost certain Cena had seen it, but the longer Matt stayed without bolting, the more at ease he felt.

Matt dropped onto the big bed in the center of the room the moment he heard the shower turn on. He tried to relax, but willing his mind to stop thinking about the pleasures yet to come was very tough. Sitting on his hands was the only thing that worked at all. If Matt hadn't done that, Cena would've gotten a nice jerk-off show when he stepped back into the room five minutes later.

Matt's jaw dropped. Cena still wore the towel, but his toned physique was covered with several water trails, courtesy of his wet head.

BOING!

"You haven't touched it, I see."

"Huh?" Matt immediately looked down.

"Your beer, Hardy." With a flick of his head, John gestured toward the table. "I told you to make yourself at home."

"Uh, yeah... I guess I got distracted." Matt answered. The blood rushing to his head was making him feel like he'd just power-bombed several shots of Jager.

"Anything I can do to help?" Cena smiled

Matt licked his lips. _Time to go for it... _

"Maybe... let me see what's under that t-towel?" Matt shivered slightly.

"Is that all?" John laughed, quickly dropping his covering.

Matt's eyes bulged and he licked his lips again.

"See something you like?" John felt a little uncomfortable, but he'd invited Matt up and if Matt wanted to perve for a while, then John was gonna stand there and let him.

"Y-y-yeah." Matt had seen John naked many times before, but this was the first time without a crowd of either paying fans or coworkers around. His tapered waist, thick thighs, and let's not forget about what hung between them... were Matt a teenager, the night would've ended before it began.

John came over and sat down beside Matt, still naked. "I wasn't sure about you." He said "I always thought you were much more dominant, but it looks like tonight I'm the Alpha male."

Before Matt had a chance to explain that he was usually more in control of his sex life, John took Matt's hand and placed in on his leg. Matt felt a charge going through John. It was probably just a combination of the heat from the shower and the blood pounding through him, but it also sent another spark right to Matt's groin. His dick now really needed some action.

"Let me take care of that... then we can decide how to go from there."

Before Matt could respond, John's fingers had worked open his jeans. His penis, swollen almost to the point of pain, pushed at his cotton boxers begging to be let out.

John could see that Matt was in some discomfort. He'd been there many times before, most recently earlier that night during his match, and he wasn't going to torment the middle Hardy any more than he had to... at least not right then.

He quickly freed Matt's cock from his shorts and gently gripped it. Matt automatically groaned and his dick started to ooze clear fluid from the head. John used his thumb to smear it all over the tip. This made Matt groan louder and his whole body began to shake.

"Fuck Cena... how'd you know?" Matt's chest heaved.

"I do my homework." John answered, reaching further down to also pull Matt's sack into the open. "Lean back."

Matt rolled back onto the bed and John quickly stripped off his pants and underwear. He only opened his eyes once after he felt something warm and wet tracing patterns over his hot skin. That was just to convince himself that this wasn't a dream and yes, John Cena was actually sucking him off.

For a guy who hadn't messed around with another man for many years prior to RAW going hardcore, John had quickly become an expert in the art of giving head. He knew what got anyone from Randy Orton to Sheamus to Darren Young off. However, this was his first Hardy party. Judging from Matt's gasping sighs, he was doing alright.

Up and down, back and forth, John soon had Matt right where both of them wanted him to be. He already felt the swelling in his shaft, and his nuts were tighter than Mick Foley's wallet. He braced himself for what he hoped was his reward.

"CEEEEEEEEEE-NAAAAAAAAAAA!" Matt shouted, his back bouncing off the mattress.

John held Matt's hips steady while he drank down shot after shot of his sweet elixir. He lost count after the fourth spurt. He continued to suck until Matt pushed him away.

"Fuck." Matt collapsed back onto the bed.

"Wow... and people say Cody is a gusher." John wiped the stray come from his chin.

Matt was still riding out his high and said nothing.

Cena flopped onto the bed; silence ensuing. Finally John looked over at Matt. "Uh, what are you still doing here?"

"Huh?" Matt replied

"I mean, I got you off... you should be dressed and out the door." John stated

"I don't get it. I thought..." John's sudden attitude adjustment was a little confusing.

"You thought what? This was going to be something between us?" John laughed out loud. "Geez, dude, you're not the smartest tool in the shed, are you?"

Matt couldn't believe his ears. Was this really the same guy who, only a few minutes earlier, was gobbling his dick like a Haagen-Dazs ice cream bar?

"Let me put this in words even a guy from the backwoods will understand. I only made the invite 'coz there was no one else around even remotely interesting." All traces of John from earlier were gone. "Face it, of the guys named Hardy on the roster, you aren't in the top two."

Matt felt the blood rush to his other head. What a prick, he thought, and I fell for it.

"You motherfucker!" Matt quickly gathered his clothes. "I should've known better."

"But you didn't." Cena replied "You're a star-fucker like the rest of the guys around here."

"I am not!" Matt protested

"Yes you are, Matt. Don't let anyone tell you different, because that is all you'll ever be. A second-rate wrestler, a second-rate friend, and definitely a second-rate fuck."

"Fuck you." Matt was trembling in anger.

"You wish."

Cena's cocky tone was infuriating Matt. Purely out of reflex, he clenched his fists. John laughed.

"Whatcha gonna do? Knock my block off?" John shook his head. "You lay one finger on me and I'll throw you under the bus so fast you won't know what hit you. Now get out of my room and if you know what's good for you... keep your mouth shut. I got a rep to maintain."

Feeling totally humiliated, Matt left Cena's room and returned to his. Despite the threat, Matt really need to talk to someone. But who could he trust? Jeff couldn't keep his mouth shut when it came to secrets. Tom would take matters into his own hands and that wouldn't work either. There had to be someone he could talk to... but who?

Realizing that even if he could find someone, there was no way Cena would get in trouble. He was that big of a draw. If anything, Matt would be the one let go in the name of 'company harmony'. He was totally fucked and he knew it.

"Dammit..." Matt screamed, jumping on his bed and clutching his pillow tightly. An hour later, he'd cried himself to sleep... dreaming of a time before he'd ever heard the name John Cena.

_Yes, I am on an anti-Cena kick right now, but John will soon realize that he's crossed the line one time too many!_

_Up next: John Cena/ Randy Orton in an I-quit match! (for waldron82)_


	34. Matt's Revenge

RAW was in Charlotte, North Carolina for its weekly live show and as usual, that meant there were a lot of bodies in town a day earlier to go over their spots for the show. By coincidence, Smackdown was taping in nearby Raleigh and once more, Alexx found herself in a bad place thanks to some more stupidity by Jack Swagger.

Swagger had told her that he was not going to do anything stupid and that he had only wanted to see his old friend Dolph. Everyone knew about their past, thanks to a vindictive Vickie Guerrero promo shortly after she and Dolph were terminated. Against her better judgment, Alexx had allowed him to 'visit'.

I guess visit meant something completely different to Jack.

Erik arrived for the show before his partner so he had the pleasure of dealing with the fallout from Jack's visit. He was really calm about the thing, until Alexx arrived half-an-hour later.

"Did you authorize this?" He demanded

"I told him he could go visit Dolph." Alexx replied "I did not give him leave to wrestle, much less give a guy memory loss."

"What the hell is wrong with that boy?" Erik tossed the stack of messages onto the desk. "First he gets arrested, and now this!"

"I know." Alexx sighed "I would love to future endeavor his ass, but if he leaves, he'll take Tom with him. That's a guarantee."

Erik shrugged. "He can be replaced... they all can."

Alexx raised her eyebrow. "A little callous, don't you think?"

"Maybe... why?"

"If it wasn't for Tom damn near killing himself, you wouldn't be standing here having this convo with me. I would think you'd be a little more loyal."

"Loyalty has nothing to do with it. It's strictly business, or have you forgotten that?"

"Can we sit down and discuss this later... you have another appointment in ten minutes." Alexx reminded

"Yeah... Matt Hardy. What the hell is his problem, now?"

"I dunno... I didn't take the message."

"Fucked over... need to talk to someone." Erik pulled the post-it note from his pocket. "In the context of this company, a blank message would make as much sense."

"Just deal with it. I'm still trying to decide what to do with Sabin and Shelley." Alexx answered

"Yes, ma'am." Erik saluted sarcastically. "One more thing..."

"What?"

"Penis."

Alexx blushed. Erik laughed, and went to his personal space. Being appointed the Head of Talent Relations was not what he'd bargained for upon his return. On the other hand, he didn't want to piss off his boyfriend's father (and new partner) any more than he had to. If that meant taking a job which meant he had to deal with roster problems, then adding the words 'crying towel' to his job title was something he would have to deal with.

There was some floozy, possibly an ex-diva or something who was supposed to be his secretary for any on-screen bits, waiting in his office. Not that Erik appeared on camera much since coming back. Apparently she didn't get the memo that her role was decorative.

"More messages."

"Thanks. Since you seem to be taking this secretary gig seriously, get me two coffees and some subs from catering. I got Matt Hardy stopping by and I deal with emo better on a full stomach." Erik barely made eye contact.

"Yes sir."

"And bring some aspirin as well." Her sweetness was giving him a headache.

The coffee and subs arrived at the same time Matt did. Irritant number one: he was going to have to share or send bimbo to get more.

"I'm anyone stops by, unless it's Cooper, I'm out." Erik waved her away.

The door was barely closed before business began. "What happened? Your message was vague at best."

Matt was one of the most professional members of the company. Rarely did he let his personal life get in the way of his job. (Obvious glaring discontinuity here... I know. Bear with me, folks!)

Matt took two breaths. One to calm himself and the second to tell the story of his brush with Cena.

Erik listened patiently. This was not the first time he'd heard a story like this.

"You know how Cena is, c'mon." Erik stated "Did you really think it was going to be any different this time?"

Matt hung his head and stared at the floor. "I dunno... I thought that maybe..."

"If I looked up 'stress' in the dictionary, I'd find a picture of all three of you Hardy brothers, wouldn't I?" Erik tapped the desktop. "I got Tom's boyfriend giving concussions to Smackdown stars, Jeff: 'nuff said, and now you think with your dick. At least I can help you."

"Huh?" This was not what Matt was expecting. He'd braced for a stiff lecture.

"Cena's fighting Orton in an "I Quit" match tonight. Go talk to Randy."

"Will he help me?"

"I dunno, but he's been having problems with Johnny trying to split him and Evvie apart. I'm sure he'll put a little extra into his RKO if you ask him nicely." Erik stated

...

"This is an I-Quit match, with no time limit..."

Cena entered the ring first and flexed, waiting for Orton to arrive. He was confident going into the match, and looking at some of the interesting weapons that were strewn about the ring was already getting him excited.

"His opponent... to be accompanied by Matt Hardy... from St. Louis, Missouri..."

John didn't hear anything else after that. At first, he was shocked at seeing his latest conquest. That quickly turned to confusion when Matt whispered something in Randy's ear, and that turned to anger when he figured out what it was that Matt was telling Orton.

"You cheap slut!" Cena jumped out of the ring to face Matt. However, Randy was between them. While the crowd noise was enough to drown out what Cena and his opponent were saying to each other, the RKO on the floor soon cleared everything up.

"Quit now, Cena... or I will make you hurt." Orton squatted over the fallen former champion.

John struggled, but soon he was at least on all fours. "No fuckin' way. I don't know what Hardy told you, but it's a lie. All of it."

"Just like it was a lie when Evan told me what you tried to do to him?" Orton turned his head one-quarter of the way to the side. "I said if you tried this crap with anyone else, I was going to make you pay... guess what, you're gonna pay."

Randy pulled John to his feet, using what little hair the older man possessed for leverage. With another Viper-like sneer, he threw John into the ring post.

"Take a seat... this is my fight." Orton instructed Matt, who was happy to do just that. He ambled around the ring and grabbed some space next to the commentators' table.

Cena was a little dazed, but that is all that Randy needed. He rolled Cena into the ring, and quickly did his "down on his knuckles" pose... a set-up for a second RKO and the match was barely a minute old.

John rolled to the side, saw Randy, and quickly crawled into a corner. Randy inwardly laughed, seeing John this way.

"Scared, Cena? Not so tough now that we're out of the bedroom where your charms won't do fuck-all." Randy slowly got to his feet, not taking his eyes of John for a moment. "Get up here and show me somethin'."

John got to his feet and showed Orton something... two somethings in fact.

"In your dreams." Orton grabbed the middle finger on both John's hands and twisted. Cena screamed.

Orton continued to twist. "You will never fuck with anyone in this company ever again... do I make myself clear. Scream for me if you get it."

Orton added one last twist for good measure... and John screamed like a girl at a Bieber concert.

Orton kicked John in the gut and Cena went back down on his hands and knees. To make sure the meaning wasn't lost, Randy stomped on both of John's hands, especially the two fingers he'd bent seconds earlier. Cena screamed again and again he retreated to a corner.

Orton looked around the ring. There were a lot of weapons available for this match. Some of them, like the chairs and tables, were typical but the foot long dildo off to one side was a new one for Randy.

Orton's temporary distraction allowed Cena to get in his first bit of offense. He speared Randy in the gut, sending him into one of the opposite corners. While he had his opponent down, he stepped outside the ring and grabbed a chair. Pausing only to make a throat-slash gesture toward Matt, he slid under the bottom rope and teed off with the weapon across Randy's back, cutting him several times with the edge of the chair.

Orton grunted with each shot and if he felt the blood trickling, he didn't show it.

With one last mighty swing, John dropped Randy flat on his stomach. He tossed the chair out of the ring, intentionally toward Matt, then quickly locked Randy in the STFU.

"Ask him!" He shouted

Referee Nooks bent down, microphone in hand. "Do you want to give up?"

"Not a chance." Randy said through clenched teeth.

John leaned back into the move, putting more pressure on Orton's neck.

"Ask him again." He demanded

"Now?"

"No fucking way." Randy replied

"Sorry Johnny…" Nooks giggled. She was happy that Orton was putting up a fight. She did not want to see Cena win.

"It's only a matter of time." Cena smirked. The smirk turned to a shout of pain when Randy bit down on his hand hard enough to break the skin.

"Motherfucker!" Cena pulled his hand away, allowing Randy to scoot to a corner. He looked at the ring of teeth marks for a moment. "You're gonna regret that."

John jumped out of the ring and headed for the chair he'd recently used. Nearby, Matt saw what he was up to and moved to grab it before the champ could. They both laid hands on it at the same time and it was a tug-of-war for the lethal weapon.

"Give it up, Hardy. This doesn't concern you." Cena barked

"The fuck it doesn't." Matt was determined to hold on.

"This doesn't concern you." John repeated "Now let go!"

He was stronger than Matt, but quickly realized that Matt was not going to give up.

"You asked for it, hick!" John pushed the headrest into Matt's gut. That knocked the wind out of him and caused him to drop the chair. Cena swung, catching Matt on the right temple and knocking him out.

"That'll teach you." John turned in preparation to get back into the ring, but instead he stared into the cold eyes of his opponent. Randy had used the distraction to get his second wind.

"Uh…"

RKO!

Cena lay writhing on top of the chair. Orton looked to his left and right, and then back to his left… an idea was coming to him. He rolled Cena over and unfastened his belt. Sliding it free, he began to whip him like a you-know-what.

With each smack of leather on skin, Cena cried out… but not in pain. Believe it or not, it was turning him on.

Orton noticed that John seemed not to be trying to crawl out of the way. He smiled.

"Enjoying it, Johnny?" THWAP! "I heard rumours that…" SMACK! "…you were into that sorta thing, but I…" CRACK! "…never would've believed it."

His arm finally tiring, Randy dragged John to his feet and leaned him against the apron, noticing that the skin on his back wasn't the only thing that was swollen.

"This is gonna make up for what you did to me a while ago." Randy used the belt to tie one of John's hands to the middle rope, then went over to a good looking fan in the front row. After whispering something to him, the fan gladly provided Randy with a second belt with which he tied John's other arm.

Having done that , he went back to the fan and made out with him for a good five minutes in front of everyone. He even allowed the fan to jack him to full hardness. When Orton turned back, he was bulging as much as the man he'd just tied to the ropes.

"Go ahead, ref… ask him if he wants to quit before I man-ram his ass into next week."

Nooks was only too happy to oblige. "You gonna quit now Cena?"

John strained to free his arms.

"I'll take that as a no. The match continues." Nooks announced much to the delight of the crowd.

Randy strutted over to Cena, the bulge in his tights even more prominent. He leaned into John's ear. "Hey big-boy… now's the time for me to become the predator and you are my prey." Orton reached into John's loose jeans and felt around for a while. Cena was definitely hard and the longer Orton fooled with him, the harder he was getting.

Removing his hands, he briefly looked at the crowd, then popped the buttons. The denim fell to Cena's ankles and Orton quickly flung the garment aside.

"Just so you don't try to go anywhere before the fun begins." Randy punched John really hard in the stomach. He sagged; the only thing stopping him from collapsing was the belts that held him upright.

Randy walked over to where Matt was slowly coming around.

"I got you what you wanted, Matt. Take your time, and just let me know when you're done so I can RKO his head right off."

Matt nodded, swallowing loudly. "Th-thanks, Randy. I owe you one."

"'S cool, just remember you can't kill him."

Matt took a couple of shaky steps toward Cena. "I dunno if I can do this, Randy. He'll hurt me again, I know it."

Randy looked at Matt with total understanding. He kicked Cena in the stomach for good measure, then took Matt by the shoulder off to one side.

"If half of what you told me is true, then he's already hurt you as much as he can. There's nothing worse than being used. Trust me, I know." Randy massaged Matt's shoulder. "If you walk away, everyone will think that it will be alright to fuck you and throw you aside. Do you really want the rest of your time on RAW to be like that?"

"N-n-NO!" Matt shouted

"Then show the world the real Matt Hardy!" Randy looked Matt in the face. "I know you can do it."

Matt exhaled. "I can do it." He nodded.

"Good." Randy walked to the other side of the ring area and leaned against the security rail. "As I said, I'll be here when you need me."

Randy's words had done Matt some good. A lot of good, in fact. His new confidence brewing, he finally was able to stand face to face with Cena. John was trying to get his wind back, which was also a good thing for Matt.

"Cena, look at me."

John wouldn't, or couldn't make eye contact.

"I said look at me, motherfucker." Matt slapped John.

I'm not sure how being tied up, half-naked, and having the person you'd just used like a Kleenex in your face would give someone the guts to kick said person in the groin, but John did just that.

Matt groaned, dropping to his knees. Thankfully Randy was there to prevent it from happening again. He grabbed Cena's leg and dropped his elbow into the kneecap. Cena screamed in legitimate pain.

Not nice, Johnny-boy. You're gonna listen to Matt or next time, I'll pop your kneecap right off. Am I clear?"

John showed a hint of fear for the first time that night.

"Good man." Randy stepped back again.

Matt was shooting daggers from his eyes. "Where do you get off thinking that you can use me as your personal jack-off fantasy?" He got right in Cena's face. "I know you only care about yourself and whatever title you hold, but it's about time you learned a lesson."

"You wanted me, Matt. Just like everyone else."

"What I wanted was someone to actually give a shit about me!" Matt shouted, tears flowing from his eyes. John rolled his.

"You're an asshole and it's time someone taught you what it's like to be fucked with." Matt grabbed Cena's boxers and tore them off his body.

The audience murmured in anticipation of seeing Matt and John get it on, but fucking was not in Matt's mind right now. At least not that kind of fucking. He grabbed the nearby dildo and stalked Cena, his plans obvious to all.

"Matt, you even know what to do with that?" John asked

"Shut it, musclehead." Matt hit John in the ribs with the foot-long sex toy. He grabbed Cena's legs and draped them over his shoulders. A dangerous move given John's anger, but it was a risk Matt knew he had to take. He placed the toy between John's cheeks and, smiling evilly, slammed it deep inside.

Cena screamed in pain.

"Like that, eh John?" Matt didn't care if he did any damage to John. Not after what John had done to him. "I think my boy wants more." He started pumping the dildo in and out of John.

"Please… stop… that hurts." Now it was Cena's turn to shed tears. His arousal was gone in seconds.

"Do you want to quit?" Nooks asked

Cena shook his head back and forth, tears streaming out of both eyes.

Matt continued to ram Cena's hole with the toy.

"I can do this all night." Matt spat at John. "Just quit now."

"Never!" John shouted, then yelled out in pain again when Matt started twisting the dildo around inside John's ass, tearing him up even further.

"Now?" Matt asked, rotating and pushing in as far as he could.

"Oh fuck, it hurts…" John cried like a baby.

"Well…"

"Yes, yes, I quit… please make it stop!"

That was all Nooks needed to hear. The bell rang.

Matt collapsed at ringside.

"C'mon, let's get you backstage." Randy helped him to his feet.

"What did I do?" Matt looked over. He felt a little guilty, watching the still weeping Cena being tended to.

"You settled the score, Matt. C'mon, we're done."

Backstage, the entire roster was waiting. When Matt stepped through, they applauded loudly. Everyone thought it was about time Cena got taught a lesson and were only too happy when it finally happened. No one thought it would be someone like Matt Hardy, though. But hey, the end justifies the means, right?

**_Up next, an update on the status of the Murder City Saints and some new faces try to make a name for themselves._**


	35. Sierra Hotel India Echo Lima Delta Fuck!

"Does anyone know why those three Indy rejects are here?" Christian grumbled

"They were probably hired." Darren Young took the teasing comb out of his hair long enough to reply.

Christian rolled his eyes. "I know they were hired, D-bag. Last week they were beating people up on Smackdown. I thought the exchange program was over!"

"Apparently it isn't." Orton leaned in between them. "Maybe after the show the three of us should make them welcome?" He winked

"What about Evan?" Christian whispered "After what you said last week…:

"Evan doesn't have to know, if you understand what I'm saying…" Orton flashed his Viper-smile at the pair. It took less than half-a-second for both Christian and Darren Young to agree. Their post-show plans now made, they leaned back and actually enjoyed the rest of the meeting.

…

"In conclusion, I would like to remind everyone that attendance at these meetings is mandatory. Missing one is a strike; if you miss two, well good luck in your future endeavors." Alexx answered "In case you were wondering why The Shield is here, I have acquired them temporarily due to the Hardy Brothers needing some time off. Apparently there's a situation that needed to be dealt with and it can't be done here. That's all I can say."

Heads turned to glare at Cena. He stared at the floor. Since the match with Matt, he'd become a lot less out there. Everyone wondered if maybe what had happened had changed John.

"Good luck and let's give them a good show."

…

Following their six-man brawl on RAW, Rollins, Reigns, and Ambrose were in a strange mood. They had joined the rest of the roster to watch the rest of the show. No surprise that they had all been a little excited by some of the flesh on parade, but not one of the trio considered himself to play that way. Keeping the whole "Shield Unity" gimmick intact, all three of them headed out of the arena together. They made it as far as the bathrooms before Orton, Darren, and Christian made their moves.

"Hey guys… long time no see." Darren broke the ice.

"Uh yeah." Ambrose stuttered, looking to Rollins and Reigns as if to ask 'what the fuck?'

"Just chill." Christian added. "We were talkin' backstage and your match was brutal."

"He means brutal in a good way." Orton quickly added

"Yeah, so we was wond'rin since you're not gonna be around long if you wanted to go grab some drinks with the three of us?"

"Well…" Again Ambrose looked to his Shield-mates before answering. Both Seth and Roman shrugged.

"Cool… this will so totally rock!" Christian said

"Can't we change first?" Ambrose seemed to do all the talking tonight.

"Nah, you look fine." Orton smiled

…

Two hours later…

"Man, I wish I could've seen your face when your mom told you she was into girls." Christian laughed, buzzed completely.

"Dude that was a shoot." Darren stated "At least I hope it was."

Across the table, the three members of the Shield were a little shell-shocked. The drinks were good, but the topics of conversation were changing so fast, not one of them could keep up with the chatter, even when it involved them.

"I gotta take a piss." Seth announced. It was the first word any of them had managed to interject in the last ten minutes.

Orton and Darren looked at Christian, who nodded. "Yeah, me too. Hold our places boys, we'll be back in a bit."

Seth and Jay headed for the back. Randy immediately signaled for the waitress to bring them another round of drinks.

The bathroom was empty. This was both a surprise as well as a blessing for Jay. Rollins was very vocal in the ring and if he was half that when his ass was getting done, then having a lot of people around to here would not be the best thing.

Seth grabbed the nearest urinal to do his business. Jay took a spot a couple toilets away. He could still get a good view, but he could do it without it being too noticeable. What a view it was.

"So what did you think of RAW?" Jay asked

Seth shrugged. "Honestly, I'm shocked that HBO even lets you get away with some of that stuff."

"You should've seen last week. Cena got rammed by a twelve-inch dildo." Just the thought of last week was making him start to get hard.

"Really?" Seth chuckled "The All-American Cena?"

"Oh man, you obviously haven't been watching RAW for the past two years. There are stories I could tell you that would make you sweat."

"If they're half that, I believe you. It ain't really my scene though."

Jay raised his eyebrows. "What is your scene?"

"I don't really have one." Rolling stated "It depends on my mood."

"And what is your mood?" Jay made his move.

"Well…" Seth looked down, then back up. In those few seconds, Jay moved over next to him.

"C'mon, you can tell me." Jay whispered "I won't tell anyone."

"Jay… I don't know… are you sure? I mean, the guys are waiting for us."

"Let them wait." Jay reached between Seth's legs. He was also starting to get hard. "So, what's your scene?"

Seth gulped. "Whatever." He shrugged

"Have you ever..." Jay pointed with his head back toward the main room.

"No!" Seth shouted

"Really?" Jay curled his long fingers around Seth's member. "I find that hard to believe."

"Well…" Seth inhaled deeply. "Not with Dean."

Even off-camera, Jay almost laughed at how in-character the Shield member was.

"But what about Reigns?" Jay started to stroke him a little faster, working the skin delicately over the steel shaft.

"Once. It was just a bit of mutual masturbation." Seth's dick throbbed in Jay's hand. "That's all."

"Mmm." Jay leaned in close to Rollins' ear. "I bet you both came real hard. "

Seth nodded. He was more interested in Jay's hand than his voice at that moment.

Jay looked around. The stalls were still deserted. He didn't know that Randy had paid the waitress one hundred bucks to put an 'out of order' sign on the door so they wouldn't be bothered.

"Follow me." He let go of Seth's penis and walked to the back of the restrooms and into the last stall. Part of him wondered if Seth might not bolt back to Reigns and Ambrose, but if Seth was thinking with the only part of him that mattered to Jay...

He didn't have long to find out. Barely had he sat down on the seat, then Rollins was right there in front of him. His dick was still out, it was still hard, and it looked ready for some serious partying.

Jay pushed back some of the extra skin and licked the pink tip. On reflex, Rollins thrust forward.

"Someone is totally impatient." Jay smiled

Seth looked down at Jay, silently begging.

Jay licked his lips, then swallowed three-fourths of Seth's girth with one practiced gulp.

Seth was ready for the blowjob, but he still almost lost it when Jay's teeth gently scraped along him. "Oh man…" he gasped, holding on to the stall's walls before he fell over.

Jay winked at him, continuing to lick along the thick veins that encircled him. All Seth could do was hold on as Jay took him to areas of pleasure that no woman had ever before.

Jay knew that Seth would be a fast cummer, and probably a loud one too. If there was going to be screaming, then Jay wanted it to be while Seth was getting the fucking of his life.

When the dick in his mouth started to twitch, Jay knew what he had to do. He pulled off and started undoing Seth's belt. Seth let him until his pants and underwear were bunched around his ankles.

"Turn around." Jay whispered "I wanna be inside you."

"Jay, I don't know." Seth hesitated "I've never..."

"It's okay. I'll show you, but you have to trust me."

Seth exhaled, turned around, and leaned his forehead against the cold steel door.

Jay stared at Seth's pert ass for a moment, and then went to work preparing him.

The moans he heard from above soon told Jay that any uncertainly Seth had about this particular sex act was gone. Jay used his fingers and tongue to stimulate Rollins' most private of areas, then stood behind him and quickly freed himself from his way too tight jeans.

"Just relax and remember to breathe." Jay whispered in Rollins' ear. "You might feel a bit of pain at first, but it'll go away quickly."

"Oh-okay." Seth exhaled loudly.

Jay placed his erection on-line and slowly pushed forward. Rollins' hole resisted him for a moment, but a few gentle strokes by Jay on his dick and he gave in.

Jay sheathed himself inside Seth. It was hot and tight, just the way he liked his men.

"Ready?" He asked

Seth nodded. The sensation was already way more than he'd expected and once Jay started to move in and out, he had to bite down on his wrist to stop from screaming.

Putting his head on Seth's shoulder, he continued to ride the young man while holding him close.

"Oh fuck me…" Seth shouted

"As you want it." Jay had purposely avoided going all the way. If Seth was this receptive to what he was doing now, Jay had no doubt that things would explode when he hit his mark.

Jay thrust forward and nailed Seth's prostate dead center. For Rollins, it felt like his entire body was hit with a live electrical wire. From his highlights all the way down to his toes, everything seemed to tingle.

"Damn… do that again." Rollins begged

Jay smiled "Oh I will, don't worry."

Jay moved in and out of Seth very evenly, but decreasing the time between each stroke until he was pounding his ass constantly. For his part, Seth took all of Jay for as long as he could until he just had to come. He reached down for his throbber.

"Let me." Jay saw what Seth wanted. He reached around and started to jack him off in time with the pounding he was giving him from the rear.

"Fuck Jay… I'm gonna come soon." Seth pumped into Jay's tight fist.

"Let's come together, stud." Jay gasped, pumping both ends of Seth as fast as he could.

"Yeah…" Seth gasped "Oh fuck!" Thick streams erupted from his dick, covering the door, Jay's hand, and his own sweaty chest. The spasms from his dick went straight to Jay's core and he filled Seth almost immediately after. He continued to fuck him until he was completely drained before pulling out.

Jay collapsed onto the seat and waited for Seth to recover. Rollins stared at the splatter of juice.

"I can't believe you made me come like that." He panted, wiping some of the fluid from his body with some toilet paper. "No one has ever done me like that?"

"Not even Reigns?"

"Hell no. The only time he even made any noise was when he came." Seth pulled his pants back up. "Uh…"

"Don't worry. They won't know unless you tell them." Jay answered, fixing his own clothes. "But we should get back to our table, don't you think?"

"Yeah."

Jay and Seth left the bathroom together, only getting a passing glance from the waitress who discretely removed the sign from the door before attending to her customers.

To their surprise, only Ambrose and Orton were at the table. Of Darren and Roman there was no sign except for some empty glasses.

"Darren left his wallet in his car and Reigns needed some air… or so he said." Randy shrugged

Jay returned the shrug.

"I ordered you some more drinks. I hope you don't mind." Randy pointed to the center of the table.

"Nah." Jay said, sitting down. Rollins did so as well, but a little more gingerly. "I have a feeling we might be here for a while."

…

"Isn't that always the case… you're having the time of your life, then you have to go do something stupid like find your wallet!" D-Young complained.

"Can't say I've ever had that problem." Reigns shrugged, leaning against the car while Darren searched through the front seat.

"Lucky bastard." Darren mumbled. Whether it was meant as a reply to his comment or to what might happen later was still up in the air.

"What was that?" Roman asked

"Never mind. Can you give me a hand looking?" Darren asked, getting a little anxious.

"Sure. Where do you want me?"

"The back seat." A slight smirk at Reigns' comment, then Darren climbed into the rear compartment as well. "Maybe it fell under one of the seats and slid back here."

It was tight, but both men squeezed into the back of the car. While hunting for the elusive billfold, Darren noticed that Reigns seemed to tense up every time their bodies brushed against each other. He wondered if the Samoan might be ready for his next move. A glance down confirmed his surprise. There was a bulge forming in his black pants and, if he was anything like his cousin Dwayne that was only the beginning.

"A-HA! Found it!" Darren exclaimed a few minutes later. It had somehow gotten wedged under the driver's seat. When he pulled his arm free, he looked up and was face-to-face with Reigns. Roman was breathing heavily. Their faces were so close that all it would take was one push forward and…

Reigns made the first move. Darren wasn't surprised that he did, but it was still a little shocking to be suddenly playing "dueling tongues" with the stud.

They kissed for what was at least a "marijuana minute". (Look it up, it's a real expression.) They only broke apart when Darren realized that he was going to get off in his pants if he didn't slow down.

"Hold on." He gasped

"'s cool." Reigns replied. Darren was surprised to hear Reigns' was breathing as hard as he was and a look at his crotch showed that he was excited in another way as well.

Darren climbed onto the back seat and quickly closed the door. Reigns followed suit on his side.

"So… are we…?" Reigns looked a little uncertain.

"Dude, I am so fucking horny right now that if we didn't, I'll still jerk myself off with you sitting here." Darren started to rub his groin to prove himself.

Reigns watched for about five seconds. "Let me do that." He removed Young's hand and his own hands quickly had Darren naked from the waist down.

Darren knew that he was going to be bottoming for Reigns, but it was still a little shocking just how fast Roman was moving. Roman removed the rest of Darren's clothing then five seconds later was already pushing at his entrance with his fat cock.

"Go for it!" Darren gasped, relaxing as he felt Roman begin to enter him.

Roman did not give Darren much time to breathe before he started moving at a not unpleasant pace inside him.

"You… really are… a… powerhouse." Darren moaned, arching his back with each deep thrust .

Roman just grunted in return and continued to deeply fuck D-Young.

It was definitely one-sided, unlike a lot of Darren's other encounters. Usually he was not stretched out across the backseat of a car getting the shit fucked out of him. The longer it went on, Darren enjoyed it more and more and much like in the ring, Roman was all business.

Darren could feel his insides tightening up. He was going to come soon, and Roman hadn't yet nailed his prostate.

"Fuck!" He shouted "Yeah, fuck meeee…." His voice trailed off into a happy sigh when his penis finally exploded. Roman growled loudly, shooting his own seed into Darren moments later.

"Wow…" Darren said after Roman pulled out. "You got dick and you know how to use it."

Roman only smirked, and then looked down almost in disgust at the smears of cum on his vest.

"This never happened." He muttered, wiping his vest off with his hand.

Darren smiled. "But at least we found my wallet."

"Where was it?"

"In my pocket." Darren chuckled. "But like you said, this never happened."

Darren and Roman returned to the bar. Seth shook his head slightly, and then returned to whatever the conversation was. It remained like that until the bar closed.

…

The main reason Randy had selected Ambrose was not because of what he saw in the ring. Even though they were both a little wild in-character, it was more because of what Randy had heard off-camera. Purely by luck, he'd roomed next to Ambrose months earlier. It was just after the Shield had made their debut. The sounds from Dean's room were enough to make Randy jizz in his pants just thinking about it and had been quite helpful for many lonely nights after.

Even better was that, while they were in town, Ambrose was again rooming nearby. Not next door, but still close enough.

Dean was drunk, Randy was pretending to be as drunk. He'd met Evan the same way, so why not press his luck?

Ambrose was mumbling incoherently about something. Randy nodded politely, although it could be anything from office politics to beer and pretzels that Dean was talking about.

Dean dropped his vest on the floor once he was inside, then pulled his white shirt over his head. Randy just stood and watched. Dean had his pants halfway off before he realized that he was being scoped out.

Instead of asking what Randy was doing, Dean simply kicked his pants aside, then grabbed Orton and tossed him onto the bed.

"Mine." Was all Dean said before rudely sticking his tongue down Orton's throat.

"Hey…mmph." This was not part of Orton's plans.

"Shut up, Viper!" Dean pulled away long enough to pull open Randy's button-down shirt. He traced along his six-pack, then gave both his nipples a tweak. "Tonight, you're mine."

Randy gasped. His nipples were one of his sexual Achilles' heels. Evan had found this out early on in their sex lives. However, Orton was not to going to lie back and let Ambrose have all the fun.

"Not if I have any say about it." Orton rolled over, pinning Dean to the mattress. He kissed Ambrose's chest, giving both his nipples a tweak for good measure, then ground delicately against him. Wearing only his undies, the friction from Orton's jeans was enough to send him to full mast very quickly.

Randy looked down when he felt something hard press against him. "Rookie." He muttered, reaching down to cup the swelling between his first two fingers. He began to stroke Dean through the soft fabric of his underwear.

Dean sighed; this was not how his usual encounters occurred.

Randy rubbed until the front of Dean's underwear was wet with his precum. He stopped, and then got a deadly serious look in his eyes. He tore open the front of the shorts and quickly went down on the younger man.

Dean moaned loudly. At the first familiar sounds, Randy boned up. This was what he had been listening to that night and now that he was the one provoking the erotic noises, it was getting him ready really quickly.

"Suck my cock… fuck…." Dean growled "Oh God… fuck yeah, that's it…"

For the next five minutes, Orton continued to pleasure the Shield member. Dean alternated obscene moans and shouts with commands that Randy was only too happy to oblige.

"Shit, Orton…" Dean suddenly raised his hips off the bed. "I'm ready."

Even with his mouth full, Randy was still able to smile. He slowly drew off.

"What the hell?" Dean asked while his pecker throbbed .

"Not yet, rookie." Randy slowly removed his own pants and underwear. His jutting phallus was pointed directly at Dean. "I'm the predator, remember?"

Before Dean to ask what that meant, Randy had one leg draped over each shoulder and his dick was pointed directly at his ass hole. Despite not having control, Ambrose couldn't resist being a cocky son-of-a-bitch.

"Gonna dry fuck me, eh?" Dean growled "Gonna take what you want from me?"

"Always do." Randy thrust forward, breeching Dean and slamming against his prostate with his first push.

"FUCK!" Dean screamed loud enough to wake up Drew McIntryre, who had been asleep in the next room.

"Keep it down i'there." Drew shouted, throwing a pillow, and then his shoe, at the wall.

"Better be quiet, Deano. We're waking the neighbors." Randy joked

"Make me." Dean shouted

Randy leaned over and sealed their mouths together. This softened the noise, but it still wasn't enough to let Drew go back to sleep.

"Perverts." Drew mumbled, now fully awake and fully erect. He quickly dressed and left his room. He hoped he'd find some company at the bar who would take his mind away from what he'd just listened to. The only man in the bar was Christian, having a few more drinks after his fun with his own Shield member.

"Scotch. Neat." He demanded

"Can't sleep?"

"Bloomin' shag in the next room woke me up." Drew moaned

Christian smiled into his beer. He knew who it was without having to ask.

"Is there a reason you're here instead of asking to join in?"

"Who says I want to?" Drew snorted

"That monster in your pants does."

Drew looked down… still hard.

"Why don't you come back to my room?" Christian whispered

Drew thought about it… for five seconds. "What the hell?" He drained his shot and got off the stool. The bulge in his pants showed through, but McIntrye didn't care.

"Put the drinks on my tab. I'll settle tomorrow." Christian said

"Very well, Mr. Reso." The bartender smiled, although he was a little sad that he wasn't going to be the one spending the night with the handsome wrestler.

Christian followed Drew out the door. They passed Drew's room, and the one beside. Bangs and other loud grunts were still being heard.

"They're gonna be at it a while." Christian laughed "I hope you brought ear plugs."

Drew laughed as well, and then followed Jay inside.

…

Orton and Ambrose were still going at it like two dogs in heat. They had changed positions so many times, that Orton was running out of ideas. The sweat was pouring off their bodies, and both men had been to the edge of coming several times. Neither had finished, though.

"Are you gonna come or do I have to choke you out?" Dean growled… he was currently the one on top.

"I told you… I'm the predator and you're my prey." Randy barked and lunged to the left. Now he was on top.

"I don't think so." Again they flipped.

"Don't make me have to RKO you!" Randy pushed Dean back down to the mattress and dug his fingers into his trapezium muscles.

"Don't make me have to plant you myself." Dean kneed Orton in the gut and again, rolled him over.

"I'd like to see you try." Orton dared the younger man.

"I got a better idea." Dean slammed his still-erect dick back into Orton's behind and started pumping him again. "You want me to get off, man? Only if I make you my bitch!"

Randy was surprised at the energy that Dean still had. He tried to push him aside, but just as he was close to getting control, Ambrose pulled another trick out of his bag, He grabbed Orton's dick and started jerking it furiously.

"Now Viper… is the big snake gonna let his little snake do what it wants?"

Randy's pride was on the line, but the pleasure he was feeling from both sides made just thinking very difficult.

"OH Fuck… Dean, dammit… I'm…"

"Yes you are… you're my bitch! Don't forget that." Dean slammed Randy hard.

"Evvie!" Orton screamed, coming all over his chest, abs, Dean's hand, and the mattress.

"What the… Bourne?" Dean almost lost his control when he heard Orton scream John's name at the moment of orgasm. "You gotta be… fuck!"

Orton clenched tightly, and rode Dean to his own orgasm with a technique that Evan had taught him.

Ambrose came almost as hard, filling Orton with the first two spurts, then pulling out to add the rest of his load to the trails on Randy's chest.

He collapsed onto the mattress, sweaty, sticky, and spent.

"Told ya I was the predator, rookie." Orton smiled "But don't worry about Reigns and Rollins… they got their own secrets."

It finally dawned on Ambrose. "You sons of bitches! You set us up!"

"You can call it a set-up… I call it welcome to RAW!"

_**Up next… what happened with Christian and Drew? You'll find out… for megsjedi.**_

.


End file.
